Description: Shihong kicks Duke a lot. Duke says, 'HA HA! YOU'RE HIRED!' And as such... DUKE GETS A MINION AND THEN IMMEDIATELY KILLS THEM!!!? At least part of that is true, read on to find out which part it is!! Also featuring: a bunch of random emits that have no bearing on the scene whatsoever! Try to find out which ones they are! Fun for the whole family!!
Late night in west side is the last place anyone sane would want to be.
Unless you have business there.
Case in point, Mao Shihong or, as she is known in most underground circles, "Fenghuang," is one of the two. Her sanity may be questioned at times, but really she's a businesswoman. And you can't conduct business properly in Metro City if you're not willing to make a few sacrifices, such as one's safety.
Currently business finds her facing a pair of well-dressed stereotypical Russians, one of which missing an eye. They speak amongst themselves, idly chatting in their native tongue as the Asian woman lingers near her black Sedan with arms folded across the top. At her elbow is a sleek black case, particularly large and beefy in its stature. It's a miracle the roof of the Sedan hasn't caved in--that's how heavy the damn thing looks.
The one-eyed Russian with a grizzly peppered beard turns that single eye toward the waiting woman. "Very well," he responds, his accent thick and English elementary at best. "We will buy. Ten thousand. No more. Deal? Does deal interest?" He and his associate look hopeful, despite the perpetual expression of apathy that haunts their faces. They're Russian, after all. Russians don't know how to smile.
However, the woman's response is less-than delightful. Lifting her arm from the roof of the Sedan, she holds up two spidery digits.
"Twelve. You agreed to twelve thousand, not ten. No twelve, no deal."
The two men turn to each other before their turn their backs to Shihong, talking up a storm in Russian once more, almost frantic. As for the Asian woman, well...she waits, idly observing her nails. "When you're done, boys, just let me know."
Late night in Metro City is not a place anyone sane would want to be. The city's west side in particular even moreso than others. There's good reason for it, too. Night is the breeding time for crime, the ideal time when deals illegal in nature can be set about. But even smaller gangs within Metro, these days, are scared to operate outside of their bounds at night, especially deep within the heart of west side. Why? There is the issue of the Hellraisers, Burn-addicted freaks. But even moreso, at night?
The man known as Duke holds an iron grip over the streets.
While his powerbase isn't even anywhere remotely near cemented, Hell's Executioner's infamous reputation has crawled through and infected the streets of Metro like a disease, spreading like a cancer. It's instilled fear within those gangs who have not had the common sense to align themselves with Duke, and at this point... only the recklessly brave like Mad Gear, the recklessly empowered like the Hellraiser's and their Burn... or the recklessly stupid ever seek to openly do business within his grounds.
Still. There are some people who are willing to take the risks to do business out in the dangerous night streets of Metro City. Such as, for example, the two Russians who know converse between themselves, and their Chinese associate. Whatever the purpose, whatever the reason, they think they can get away with it. Sometimes, they do. Othertimes?
"No deal."
Othertimes, they are dealt the worst hand possible.
The voice comes from behind Shihong. Should she and her friends turn to look, they'd find only one man. Tall, imposing -- dressed in half black, half scarlet clothes. A scar stretches across his neck like a morbid decoration, a feature worn by one man in particular.
"No deal at all. In fact..." A hand lifts, fingertips pressing against scarred throat. "... I doubt any of you are actually even going to be getting out of here alive." Risky business -- especially when there are men like Duke around.
Business is business. Sometimes things work out perfectly, going off without a hitch. Othertimes, business gets interrupted, and matters become particularly complicated.
Tonight, it would seem that the fates conspire to make it precisely that.
From behind the woman a low voice all but growls, making it particularly clear that there is no business to be had here. While most would act irrationally in response or piss themselves in fear, the lanky woman in black does neither, save spare a brief glance over a shoulder. Soon after, the corners of her lips tug into a smirk, black eyes narrowing as she watches the two Russians. As for them?
They act irrationally. From within their slate gray business jackets they rip out their pistols, the one-eyed Russian's face painted with disbelief and anger. "Who are you!!?" he barks, pushing his gun toward both Shihong...and the well-known "businessman" of Metro. Still, the woman says nothing.
"Is he your boss?? Is this a trap? You dumb woman, explain!"
The Asian woman sighs heavily, eyes drawing shut as she continues to lean against the hood of her vehicle. "No," she explains. "I don't know who he is, personally. I know OF him. And I think it's in your best interest to get out of here while you can still walk on two legs."
Immediately the two men seem insulted, their rough faces seizing into a look of confusion, before they just snarl in disgust. "Threat? How dare you!" The gun is thrust forward, toward Duke in particular, that single eye glaring at Hell's Executioner. "Business is business! Get out, go away! I have important matters here! Idiot!"
As for Shihong, she simply exhales, a long arm extended as her delicate fingers clutch to the handle of the large black case. Clearly things aren't going to resolve themselves as easily as she could hope for. But if they're going to get themselves killed, well.
That's their problem, not hers.
Who are you!!? barks the one-eyed Russian, to which Duke can only respond with a heavy frown.
"If you don't know who I am, and you're working here of all places... you must really be trying hard to get yourself killed."
Guns are drawn, but Duke looks particularly, unnnervingly unmoved by the sudden display of weaponry. In the end, you can tell a lot about a person by simply observing their reactions. Duke knows, looking at the pair of Russians, they are nothing to be concerned with. They are stupid, and they are scared, and because they're scared they're trying to defend that fear with anger. Just gnats. The other, though... the woman is clearly not with them. And simply based on her reaction to his arrival alone, she might make the trip down here worth the effort expended.
"... Idiots. I came all this way for a pair of losers." Duke takes a step forward as he all-too casually slides a hand into his pocket, his head tilting at the pistols lined at him. "What do you think you're going to do with those, anyway? Don't you get it?"
Within a moment, he's gone. In the darkness, any normal person would be hardpressed to see, let alone keep track of the mobster's movements -- but Shihong should see it all quite clearly. The man moves with surprising speed for his build, with a singular purpose. His right heel -slams- into dirt-ridden concrete just an inch before the one-eyed Russian, as a large hand snaps outward, intent on gripping him by the throat, clamping down -hard-, and lifting him up off the ground -- presenting his back to his friend as a shield. Almost casually, he applies crushing pressure to the man's throat.
"You're going to die."
And in a single, unceremonious gesture, Duke will simply snap the man's neck as if he were nothing.
A moment after, Duke is throwing the man forward towards his 'friend,' dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "You get to live. Go take that body and show it to your friends. The next time I see you trying to operate in this city without my authority... I'll wipe you all out." Whether he can comprehend or not doesn't matter. The intent is there. If he stays around, he's going to die. And like that, whether he leaves or not? He's forgotten, dismissed as Hell's Executioner turns once more to bring his focus on the one who has truly garnered his interest today: Shihong. "... and who the hell are you supposed to be?"
And all the while, however short it may be, the Asian watches, black eyes alight with interest as the events unfold before her. As expected, they act irrationally. Driven by their worries and fears, the two men draw their weapons and shove them toward both Duke, as well as herself. But this is a bit unfair. She has no affiliation with Hell's Executioner, but trying to explain herself to frightened and clearly angry Russians is probably not a good thing.
So she'll let Duke handle the matter.
As Duke steps forward, Shihong pointedly pulls the heavy case from the top of the car and, with a grunt, escorts it into the back of her car. Contented once it has been eased into place, she shuts the car door and straightens her back, black eyes looking toward the three. What she sees is something that would likely frighten most. To Shihong, it's just another facet of business. Death, like shit, happens.
In fact she sighs, shaking her head idly as she frowns to herself. "Well fuck," she mumbles, a hand dipping into her pocket for her car keys. "There goes that deal. Christ, Al's going to be pissed." She could care less about the Russians. For now, it would seem the Asian woman wants to be on her way, as she moves around the car with her keys and reaches for the lock.
But then he singles her out. Briefly do black eyes roll before drawing shut, a soft sigh escaping her thin red lips. She says nothing immediately; instead, the Chinawoman turns on her heel and slides her black gaze toward the imposing man, her expression distantly humored.
"I'm just passing through," she says, before her hand twists. She's opening her car door, and looks to be making her exit. "Sorry we couldn't chat longer."
Business can easily go awry, especially when working in a city like Metro, a city that embodies the very idea of 'survival of the fittest.' It's why Duke chooses to take such a personal hand in things now, in this city. Why he would even bother to deal with such insignificant deals between low-level criminals like these. It exerts his presence, his strength... and it makes his connections to this city and it's criminal underground all the stronger.
Part of this personal touch Hell's Executioner takes in his work is for situations precisely like this. There are always those worth notice amidst the endless piles of scum and losers that decorate the slums and the criminal-heavy streets of the west side. Diamonds in the rough. Much like the woman packing the enormous case into her car, and beginning to take her leave. Duke stops her, and doesn't outright seek to kill her, for one reason and one reason alone: intrigue. Her reaction sparked the curiosity. Now..
... it's time to see if she actually has any potential.
The moment that Shihong answers him, Duke's lips pull into a humorless smile. "That's not an answer to my question." His left hand slipping out of his pants pocket, the aspiring Syndicate enforcer clenches and unclenches his fist, turning his gaze to it. "You aren't scared. Even those morons were scared. Is it just stupidity... or do you have a good reason? But don't worry..."
Before Shihong can make her exit, Duke pushes off a single foot, making a clear and direct rush towards the woman. His left hand cocks back, fingers snapping shut into a fist before thrusting forward in a single, swift right hook. He moves with an obvious sort of predictability -- and it's clear that he holds back his own speed, as if toying with Shihong or, more accurately -- testing her. But holding himself back or not... that fist still swings with Duke's enormous strength behind it, intent on crashing harshly against Shihong's sternum.
"I think you can afford some time to -talk-."
COMBATSYS: Duke has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Duke 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Shihong has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Duke 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: Shihong blocks Duke's Quick Punch.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Shihong
"It my not be the answer to your question," she begins, dark eyes shifting briefly from the lock on the car door and onto the imposing man just behind her. However mysterious and cryptic the man may be, the likes of Shihong sees more than he'd be aware of. He projects himself in more ways than one. The tiny smirk on her thin lips widens just a bit.
"But it remains the answer to mine. I think you've had your fun already." An absent nod is spared toward the dead Russian. As for his friend, well. He long since ran away from the corpse of his boss. Black eyes return to Duke thereafter, sizing the man up and likely comparing the man himself to the rumors she has heard.
And she surmises he's not someone she wishes to fuck with. Unfortunately for Shihong, she has no choice in the matter.
"Why should I be afraid?" she asks. But before she can fully respond he comes charging after, a fist clenched and predictable at best. Briefly does the Chinawoman seem puzzled by this turn of events, but soon a smile comes easily enough over red lips. Yes, she figured it would come to this. And a part of her knows she's going to pay for it in the morning.
The hook comes, but it meets not with soft flesh. Instead, that meaty fist impacts with the center of Shihong's palm, dark eyes widening briefly before she simply narrows them, pulling her lips into a harsh smirk. "Afford time to talk?" she responds, sounding clearly humored. "I don't know if you could pay me enough to make up for the money I've lost here. But somehow..."
Twisting her body, she leaps forth from the ground, her body twisting harshly. A leg flies up in the midst of her rotation, the heel of her pump aimed for the side of Duke's face as she follows the momentum of her body, intent on landing a solid and particularly savage blow.
"I don't think you're a listener!"
COMBATSYS: Duke dodges Shihong's Strong Kick.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Shihong
There. Duke sees all that he needs to see in the very moment that his fist strikes not sternum, but a tense, strong hand that deftly absorbs the brunt of the blow. True, he forced himself to hold back his speed, but even then -- such an attack, with such force, would floor a normal person, let alone a normal woman with such a slight build and tiny stature. His face betrays nothing but the wry, unamused smile that crawls across his lips. "... Hmph."
The moment of contact, Duke pushes back, landing some feet from the Chinese woman in question. Casually, he stretches out his right arm, and soon after his left, cracking noises issuing forth as joints are loosened and relaxed. "You're not afraid of dying, girl?" It's a simple enough question. But Duke's only vaguely interested in the answer; it'll give him some more sparing glances into just what kind of person this seemingly unassuming woman is.
Glances which he gets a bit further viewing of the moment that Shihong twists through the air in a show of acrobatics unfounded in most individuals. "... Don't be so sure of yourself..." Still, despite the grace inherent in the strike, Hell's Executioner can see it coming, can track her movements expertly. And before heel can meet face... he twists, -thrusting- himself to the side so that her leg swipes nothing but empty air.
"Hn. Worthless. Predictable. Show me something -faster-." As Duke speaks, his hands snap forward, intent on grasping Shihong by the leg before she makes her full descent from the kick. From there? He'll just use that leg to swing her through the air, and then FLING her into the ground, to send her on a harsh collision-course with the concrete below.
"GRAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Shihong with Quick Throw.
- Power hit! -
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Shihong
Shihong kicks a rock at Duke.
Duketor Doom catches the rock and throws it back.
The rock blows a hole through the wall! Shockwave demands, "What the hell are you doing?! This is my house!"
Then some kid in a wheelchair rolls through the hole. Distantly, is heard on the wind. "....courage!"
While the man may ponder the effects such a blow would have on anyone else, the woman simply makes her move, body twisting, launching into the air. But when her leg snaps out, to leave its mark across the face of Duke, she finds she hits nothing more than empty air, but does not concern herself with the loss. Instead, pain is swift to follow, his large hand grabbing her out of the air and tossing her into the concrete, leaving a particularly nasty crater around her form. Briefly, the Asian woman does not move.
But then, casually at that, she rises up, dusting the concrete from her shoulder.
And glancing over said shoulder, she meets him with an impassive expression. "If I lived day to day, afraid of dying or death, then I would not make the most of what time I have, now would I?" she responds, her expression vaguely humored as she observes him. Worthless and predictable?
Her lips cut into a smirk. Without hesitating, Shihong leaps into action, rather literally. Leaping towards, she twists her body again, rotating her hips to deliver a three-sixty turning kick toward his face. Landing, she kneels briefly before her leg shoots up, her heel aimed for his chest, before she lifts the other leg, a side kick with particularly nasty oomph aimed for that same spot, to send him staggering back.
COMBATSYS: Duke endures Shihong's Prancing Stag.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Shihong
With one solid hit, Duke displays just what kind of power he has to afford. He is quick to release her after she is thoroughly greeted with the harsh ground beneath her, the man stepping back to gain more space and wait for his newfound opponent to come at -him-, generously waiting for her to recover herself. It doesn't take long; soon enough, Shihong is up onto her feet, responding to his question with a response that draws something of a derisive snort from him, but little more than that. Interesting enough response.
Polished shoes scrape against hard concrete as Duke lifts up to his full height, his hands held limply at his sides as if simply -waiting- for the Chinese woman to make her move. As she pushes off the ground and through the air, there is only the barest tensing in the mobster's legs, the simple hints of preparation that do not extend beyond the bracing of his body. Whatever his plan, it's clear he isn't moving... and the moment that twisting kick lashes out, he hardly budges. The heel SLAMS into his face harshly, causing his left leg to slide across the ground. The second kick strikes his chest, causing him to push backwards in a single stagger. By the third kick, though, Shihong might note...
... he's moving -forward-.
The moment that Shihong's strike slams into his body, Duke is already blazing through the air, intent on slamming his knee directly into Shihong's solar plexus. "HRAAAAGH!!" The force alone will be enough to launch her straight upwards with Hell's Executioner. His body twists, his right leg swinging high through the air before thrusting -down-, his heel seeking to strike Shihong and SLAM her into the ground with swift, explosive force.
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Shihong with Dive Bomber.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/-======|=======\====---\1 Shihong
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Duke 0/-------/-======|=======\====---\1 Shihong
There is no denying it: Duke is strong, far more than a handful. She's faced down plenty of punks in her time, but there's reason to believe he got where he is in Metro because of this. Because he's stronger than most in the city. She should be afraid of him for this reason alone. And yet...she is not.
Even as she is brutally slammed into the ground, a smile remains on her face. And it lingers as she suddenly launches toward him, three precise and particularly sharp kicks intent on sending the man stumbling. And yet...and yet for all the effort...nothing. In fact, Hell's Executioner is coming AT her. Too fast for her to really comprehend. As result, Shihong is kneed brutally, her body jerking fiercely against impact. But just as she begins to stumble...the opposite leg swings up and, as result, crashes down on her hard. Again, she's introduced to the ground below her, a crater of cracked asphalt a grim reminder of her miscalculation.
But she isn't out. Not yet. In fact, the woman suddenly moves, tumbling toward him and pushing off her hands. It launches her at him in a slide, her legs engulfed in weird, vermillion red energy as she moves. Should those legs crash, her fiery form will harshly twist, buffeting him in a furious series of blows as she pushes herself toward a handstand beneath him and, upon succeeding in doing so, briefly coils her legs before she shoves off and upwards, to fly into his jaw heels first for a nasty finish.
COMBATSYS: Duke endures Shihong's Guardian of the Gods.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Duke 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Shihong
Until this point, Shihong has just been a person with unnaturally high degrees of talent and potential for someone of her profession. A vague rarity amongst a sea of unimportant filth. It hasn't quite been enough to spark Duke's interest, or convince him he shouldn't just kill her and spare himself the potential trouble. After his finally slamming leg strike towards the ground, it seems that may very well be his intention--
-- but then, Shihong does something to pique the interest of Hell's Executioner.
It's not the techniques. The speed at which she moves, the sudden burst of might that accompanies her footfalls, is enough for him to let her go after all is said and done if only because she's proven to A) not be stupid, and B) put up a decent fight. But it's that energy. That vermillion energy that bleeds out and wreaths her legs. It's enough to bring him pause, enough to make him just stand perfectly still... and await her strike with an almost -curious- gaze.
"Bring it on--"
CRACK. Energy and feet strike in a sudden, blurring series of blows. The energy burns... but not in the same way chi does. He's only felt this twice before. From that puny kid, Alma, and Luise Meyrink. The energy brings an unpleasant tingle against his spine, at the base of his brain, as it burns at his body and brings far more damage than he would have thought possible from someone of Shihong's level. The Chinese woman coils, springs upwards... and as her feet impact Duke's jaws, she may note the unrelenting intensity of Duke's stare, and the -fire- that literally blossoms forth from his hands.
The blow is more than enough to send Duke airborne. Blood trickles down from the bottom right corner of his mouth, following him in a trail of crimson as his fiery hands lift and clasp together. He twists in midair, righting himself as he descends. Striking the ground knees first with such force that concrete churns beneath him, Duke provides the necessary friction to stop himself by simply -SLAMMING- his hands into the hard ground in a vicious hammerblow.
"HRAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
And -that- is when the ground literally explodes beneath Duke's fist in a massive wall of flames that cuts through the concrete earth with every intention of slamming into Shihong like the fires of Hell itself.
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Shihong with Sledgehammer.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Duke 0/-------/------=|=======\=------\1 Shihong
And in the midst of battle, someone suddenly yells, outraged, "HEY!!" Out of nowhere, a kid in a tuque and mitts bursts in, desperately grabbing Duke by the shoulder. "Why are you doing this?! Don't you know the meaning of Christmas?!"
And, likely, the Asian woman is not necessarily fighting to impress. For once, she's fighting more to save herself, to keep from being utterly decimated by the sheer brute strength of Hell's Executioner. In very few hits he has proven himself to be a most formidable man and, frankly, someone she has no intentions of crossing again if she can possibly avoid it. Even still, to avoid getting killed...she has to exert herself a little.
A lot, in fact.
In one swift gesture, Shihong employs a power he's only had a brief taste of. Around her, lacing her legs, that odd vermillion colored power surges, stinging and burning as it impacts him repeatedly. Battered with kicks, the blows end as she handsprings into him and, as result, sends him staggering--airborne, in fact--as she herself rotates midair and lands on her feet.
But she doesn't smirk. Instead, those dark eyes narrow as he descends. But as he falls...he crashes into the ground. So hard, in fact, it erupts in a massive explosion of chi flames, energy that does not bode well with the Asian woman. Caught in its grip, she's burned and seared, a muted cry escaping her lips. But her features harden, however unseen they may be.
So as the flames die down...Shihong breaks through them, smoking. Twisting her body again, she launches herself off the ground with not one, but two aerial cartwheels, the heels of her feet blazing with that awful red energy before she briefly crouches and, springing upwards and backwards, backflips with every intention of crashing her shoe's toes right into his jaw.
But after that display...she isn't taking the offensive anymore. In fact the woman staggers, lips parted as she struggles desperately for breath, winded. She's had her share.
"Are you happy now?"
COMBATSYS: Shihong can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Duke 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Duke endures Shihong's Vermillion Sparrow.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Duke 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Haggar has joined the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Duke 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Haggar
COMBATSYS: Haggar has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Duke 0/-------/----===|
And that's it. In that single moment, Duke elects to cease holding back and simply -end- the fight that he so suddenly and brutally began. He's seen what he's wanted to see, and he's certainly tasted the unusual power that Shihong has at her beck and call. As such? The fight, for him, is over.
He heralds this abrupt end with the screaching wall of fire that engulfs and blasts through Shihong. They last only moments after contact, dispersing once the damage has truly been done -- even born of Duke's rage, his fires are no closer to real than any other chiflame. The mobster stands up once more with a surprising degree of ease, despite the damage previously inflicted upon him. Methodically, the man wipes his mouth clean of lingering traces of blood, staring down at the dark red staining his hand with a certain degree of apathy. "That was better," he remarks, dark eyes twisting to regard Shihong... who is suddenly bursting through his flames and towards him.
"... Heh. Let's see what you've got, girl."
And so she shows him. The force isn't anywhere near that which he experienced before, but that energy burns all the same. The strike slams directly into his jaw, sending him staggering backwards... but it's clear that impact is made only because he -allows- it to. Shihong strikes clean and Hell's Executioner bears through every second of that strange, burning pain that diffuses across his chin. But he doesn't fall. And after his third step backwards... he comes to a stop, standing tall above the staggered woman. Happy?
"You could say that." Turning his gaze to the woman's sedan and the case she brought with her, his eyes narrow, considering. "You operate as a transporter, don't you?" He pauses here, leaning forward as his gaze shifts back to his would-be opponent. "... but money like what those idiots were offering you is chump change. Is that the way you want to live, as a supplier to bottom-feeding losers?" His right hand lifts, fingertips once more scraping across his neck.
"... Join me. Work for me, and have a chance to get real power and stop working for chump change. Or... you can continue to let thick-headed immigrants try and cheat you out of your money. It's your choice."
COMBATSYS: Duke takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Duke 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Duke has ended the fight here.
The fight is over, and Duke is still standing. Figuratively speaking.
With one last burst of sheer will and adrenaline, Shihong pushes her body to its limits. Launching her body, she exercises her dexterity and grace, legs viciously flailing as she strikes the mobster. But it isn't luck which guides her feet; quite the contrary. Duke allows it to happen...like many of the successful blows delivered by the Chinese woman. Does it embitter her? Anger her?
Not at all.
It takes some time, but eventually the woman collects her wits about her, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Lifting a long arm from her side, pale knuckles graze across bruising features, traces of blood slowly wiped free of her busted lip. The other hand touches the bloodied knuckles and, in an appraising fashion, rubs the remains between her fingertips. She seems mildly intrigued, and, as always, distantly humored by this turn of events.
When Duke speaks, however, the black-eyed woman looks up, thin red lips pulling into a tight and pensive line across her porcelain-like features. "Sure," she responds, her tone casual and light. "You could say that. And hey, I can't complain. The money is good, and they're chumps for doing business with me." Shrugging idly, the Asian woman slips a hand into her coat, drawing out a set of keys again. She moves toward the driver's side of the black Sedan.
The woman is going to leave.
But her steps falter and ultimately cease as he speaks up again. What did he just say? In disbelief does the woman turn her head, a single black eye peering at the mobster, as if he grew a second head on his broad shoulders. "Say what?" she asks. "Did you just extend me an offer to join you and your operations? Or did you knock the shit out of me so damn hard I'm hearing things?"
It's an unusual thing, the offer he extends out towards Shihong. Duke says little after his offering. Instead, he chooses to tilt his head upwards towards the sky, taking a moment as if to give an appreciative gaze towards the pollution-choked heavens above him. She sounds surprised; her tone draws a wry smile across his lips, tugging at the blood-stained corners of his mouth. She disbelieves his words?
"... Hmph. Should I speak more slowly for you?"
A derisive snort follows afterwards, the unpleasant demeanor and expression Hell's Executioner adopts never fading. His head tilts down, looking over his shoulder towards the transporter as she pauses in her trek away. A single, dark brow lifts, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gives a stare that might be -insulting- or -condescending- if not for the words that trail just afterward. "What I offered you is very real, and also very short-lived. You can hold up your own in a fight, unlike most of the trash that crawls around the streets here in Metro. But you're not going to go anywhere with what you're doing now."
He turns around fully now, thunder echoing over in the distance as clouds begin to rise up from the horizon. "You've got potential," Duke continues smoothly, keeping his words as short as possible. He doesn't like speeches. "Because you've got potential, and you're not just another drooling waste of space, I'm extending this one-time offer to you. Join my operation. You will answer directly to me, and you'll be contracted for far more money than you'd make transporting worthless crap for equally worthless trash. Take it, and have a chance to make something worthwhile. Or go back to trying to heckle with people who don't even understand simple English.
"It's up to you."
"...And Christmas."
Suddenly, a child in a wheelchair rushes by, barreling over Duke as the police pull up behind him and put the foul gangster under arrest.
"COURAGE!!!"
Grissom trembles in the front seat as the roaster coaster jolts into motion, slowly ascending its heartstopping track, the threat of the first plummet only seconds away. "I... I can't do it," he whispers, his chest clutching, his face contorting, sadness overtaking him as--
A hand takes his. "Anything's possible," says the boy in coaster car beside him. He smiles. "When you have... courage!!"
Tears burned in Grissom's eyes!
In the background, fucking sweet music that sounds kinda like Hans Zimmer plays.
ANVIL!!
A tempting offer, if ever there was one. Clearly Shihong is stunned, however vague the expression of such may be. Without so much as a single word to distract or cut the mobster short, the Asian woman just watches as he speaks. And the longer he talks, the more obvious it is he's not just yanking her proverbial chain. The guy's serious.
"That's no way to talk to someone you're trying to recruit, you know," she adds after a pause, her eyes snapping shut promptly thereafter. Still, the majority of his words linger, and it draws the woman into another period of silence. Is she considering and weighing the options? Or is she deciding the best way to shoot down the mobster's offer? Quiet as ever, Shihong ponders.
"Still, you match your insults with fancy compliments, and I can appreciate that. However, it's one thing to say you can offer me more than my clients. But it is one thing to say, and another thing to prove. Without proof, how can I know for certain that you aren't simply blowing smoke out of your ass?" Thin lips pull into a sharp smirk, eyes narrowing a scant bit out of amusement.
"You'd be amazed what sort of payments my clientele are willing to fork over for some of the shit they want me to deliver or handle." Turning her back to the door of the sleek Sedan, Shihong lifts her arms and neatly folds them across her chest, growing comfortable as she converses with the imposing Hell's Executioner.
She smiles. "I can't say that I'm not intrigued, however. You're the first big-time guy to come extending offers to me. However, I find myself hesitating. I've heard what you have done and know some extent of your operations, but that alone does not make someone powerful or great. There's more to it. So, how's about this."
With a light grunt, the woman pushes her back off the vehicle, slender hands tucking away into the depths of her coat pockets. Grinning still, she meets those odd eyes with her black depths, pearly whites glistening as she smiles. "I'll do a few favors for you; a contract deal. I'll run errands for you, transport some things, bust a few heads--for a price, of course. Assuming I perform sufficient to your tastes and continue to impress, and you in turn do the same, I'll do it. Otherwise, if not, we'll simply part ways, no strings attached. And I won't step on any toes." Pausing briefly, the woman tilts her head, her chin aloft as she peers his way.
"Deal?"
Bluntness is simply the way in which Duke operates. Practicality is his tool. Why try and win people over with fancy words when cold, hard cash and offers of substance work so much better? Thus, Hell's Executioner employs a distinctly low level of tact in his words -- in this particular case, he realizes... it's not really necessary.
"Heh. You think so? I suppose not," comes the simple reply to Shihong's observation of that unkind bluntness. "I'll try to keep that in mind in the future." Except... probably not. He can tell, she's intrigued. He sees it with those perceptive eyes of his. And that's all he needs to eventually pull her in.
"I don't expect you to run into a deal blindfolded. If you did, you wouldn't really be worth the trouble of recruiting, would you?" Shaking his head, the ambitious mobster shuts his eyes and offers an unpleasant, vaguely amused smirk. "I'm not here to make fancy words I can't substantiate. That's bad for business." And Duke's business, is his -life-.
Of course, Duke is not so prideful or so stupidly arrogant, however, to become offended when someone questions his 'powerfulness' or 'greatness.' Having started from nothing, he's used to it. Everyone wants proof, after all. Only a chump takes things at face value. And so, Hell's Executioner lifts his hands out of his pockets, slowly slipping one into his jacket to fish for something. He pulls out a single card, with elegant, black inscription and embroidery bordering the white piece of paper. A single flick of his wrists sends the thing flying Shihong's way, for her to catchm and to keep.
"You'll have a month. If I'm not satisfied, you won't find a place within my gang. And like you said, if you don't find yourself suitably impressed by my 'greatness,' Duke's inflection here is humored, if not a touch sarcastic, "then you can leave without any harm coming to you. I'll contact you within the week, and you can meet me at that address." If Shihong is even remotely knowledgable about the Metro City area in downtown, she may note that the address? Is to a simple, nondescript warehouse, long since abandoned. From there, Duke will simply turn and begin to walk away, his hands in his pockets.
"You have a deal."
Log created on 21:53:08 09/10/2007 by Duke, and last modified on 02:03:03 09/15/2007.