Description: Mr. Brown is a wanted man. After murdering Kain's men in cold blood on the open streets, not only is he evading the police, but his victims comrades. As he tries to lie low, waiting for his contact, he finds out that a third party is after his hide... and the Ikari aren't known for their kindness.
Downtown Southtown. 11 PM. The Ai No Nai Night Club.
The dull droning beats of a kick drum thumps throughout the Japanese night club, the 3 year old New Age Electro House rumbling on. None of that dubstep shit here in the Pacific Rim. The Ai No Nai was a seedy night club, making up for the lack of class with a diversity of interests. Exotic Dancers of dubious quality at every table, a modestly stocked bar with unfortunate prices, and of course, less legal interests hidden in the back rooms and corners of the hazey club. Blue, red, and ultraviolet lights stream against the shadows scattered across the night club, faceless figures indulging in senseless delights of the rotting night club.
But there was one man not enjoying the night life.
The brown-haired, brown suited man sits in the smokey corner of the night club, staring intensely ahead at a table. He looks past the gyrating dancer upon the table, the untouched bottle of beer, focused at dead space with his one good eye, the other concealed with an eyepatch. At his side, there is a titanium attache case, handcuffed to his wrist. He came here to relax. He came here to meet a contact. But there was no relaxing, and so far, there was no contact.
Mr. Brown felt the noose tightening around his neck.
He had successfully made the hit on the local gangsters, but botched the escape. He got away, yes, but there were witnesses. And now, there was a warrant for his arrest by the police. That was nothing. He had been on watch lists before. But Duke had made it clear that he wasn't allowed to leave Southtown yet. He had to lie low. That was his business here. An old Southtown contact, back when the Syndicate was active in the city. A safe house. It wasn't the police he was worried about, no. He knew that the local gangsters would find out about the hit, and the man who carried it out, the man who was on the run.
And they would be looking for revenge.
So it isn't his usual sort of place. Most Ikari rather prefer to just find a hole in the wall place with few people and plenty of drink. If anything perhaps a juke box to play some rock music to help with the mood. Not the idle thumping that is going on right now. It is less the fact Faolan is here by choice, but more by request. Seems like Southtown is having troubles once again and a few of the more wealthy people living in the city have decided to try and do something about it. In this case the Ikari were contacted informed that the Syndicate is starting to show itself again and try to slowly regain their territory after for the most part being quiet for quite some time.
For now he has simple orders. Just hang around town and for once try not to make too big of a scene. It isn't like Faolan is the most subtle of people so usually him doing recon work isn't the best idea. It is more the fact Heidern is being pulled in a few different directions and the forces are all for the most part busy with other things. If Southtown ends up being as messy as Heidern expects it to be then there will be reinforcements. For now it is the Irishman and a few others that are scattered about town. Personally he would rather be out in a battle, but he has to do what the boss tells him.
He is off in a corner table nursing a glass of whiskey and has his hat pulled low. Leaning back in his seat he has mostly remained focused with the rather nervous man with the briefcase cuffed to him. Even in a place like this that has its share of shady types he does stand out. He might not have anything to do with the Syndicate for sure, but right now he has possibly been the one that most likely might lead to some form of revelation as to what is going on in this town.
Chance, as far as mistresses go, prefer the attentions of many suitors.
In this case, chance was not part of the five black suited locals that were standing up from the table, walking their way through the smoke. Chance was not with Mr. Brown, as he his gaze snaps to these five men. Chance, unfortunately, was with Faolan, as the five men stop in front of his table, focused on the nervous man that Faolan was focused upon. Faolan may be able to see the bulge of concealed holsters, a missing pinky of one of the suited men. Yakuza, likely. It seemed chance needed another victim to court.
Chance settles on the dancer, as she falls to the ground.
The table was flipped up for cover. Semi-automatics are drawn in unison between both camps. The bottle of beer shatters on the ground. The five men open fire into the table, as the one-eyed man takes cover. Screams pierce the nightclub, More tables are flipped, covers are taken. The bartender shouts. The black-suited gangsters bite curses in Japanese. Mr. Brown doesn't say a word behind his table. One of the five men immediately goes to Faolan's table, not even looking at the Irishman, just trying to seize the table, to pull it away, with a gun drawn. To turn it into cover.
And most likely, spill one of his drinks.
It isn't often when Faolan is right when making one of his hunches. He will be the first to admit he is more brawn than brain and he prefers to let the spying and strategy stuff be handled by people like Whip and Heidern. He might be the lone person that doesn't even flinch when all hell starts to break loose. He just sips his glass and sets it down on the table as bullets start to fly and people scatter to get the hell out of the club. He remains calm and seems to be taking a moment to decide what he exactly should be doing.
Someone makes that choice for him it would seem.
His table gets yanked and his half filled glass shatters against the ground. With a light sigh Faolan reaches towards the wall to grasp his bata from where it was resting. Calmly he lightly taps an end on the shoulder of the gangster that decided to interrupt the Ikari's drink. Enough to get him to at least turn his attention the way for Faolan for a moment. That moment is all he needs because he quickly attempts to just slam the bata down onto the top of the gangster's head. "At least say yer sorry!" he grumbles and he starts to get to his feet. Looks like it is time to stop sitting around and get in on the action.
COMBATSYS: Hitmen has started a fight here.
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Hitmen 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Faolan has joined the fight here.
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hitmen
COMBATSYS: Faolan successfully hits Hitmen with Weapon Jab.
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hitmen
So much for a contact.
Mr. Brown continues to take cover, as the five men begin to surround the table... or rather, four men. What would have been the fifth had the misfortune of messing with another man's fifth. The black suited man doesn't even look at the sighing man as he pulls the table in front of him, aiming his gun down towards Mr. Brown, taking his shots. He doesn't even look when he suddenly takes a bata to the face. The gun is sent flying, the jaw goes slack as he groans in pain. The gunfire stops.
And the blow knocks him stumbling back into his peers.
More stunned than injured, the other four men shift their attention to the second attacker. Fortunately for Mr. Brown, that was a distraction. Unfortunately for Faolan, all these Hitmen see is a bodyguard, and accomplice. But fortunately for Faolan, as they turn their guns on the Irishman... all that comes are clicks. There is a pause for a moment. And just as suddenly, they all rush the Irishman, hurling their bodies into the stranger.
To pile on the Ikari Warrior.
COMBATSYS: Faolan blocks Hitmen's Multiple Tackles.
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Faolan 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Hitmen
This could end up real bad. Not only could he potentially end up getting filled with bullets, but he may also lose track of the man he has been watching for the past few hours. Not like he can do much about grabbing Mr. Brown at this very moment. Not when his strike seemed to get the attention of the entire group of gangsters at this point. The odds don't look too good, but at the same time this is far from the worst he has seen when it comes to odds. He tchs lightly and shakes his head at the group as they start to aim at him. "Still got a chance to apologize."
He expects to feel a few bullets hit him when he sees triggers being pulled instead of apologies being made. There is the strangeness of actually having something lucky happen to him? All the guns lock up at once? Well that is just strange. He doesn't really get much time to think about it given the five men soon look to just dog pile him and beat him into meat paste. They hit him and surprisingly they find him hard to take to the ground. He is a big guy, but there are five men that aren't exactly small trying to overwhelm him at the moment. Faolan remains on his feet somehow as he struggles to at least try to free himself from a few of the hands grasping at him.
He uses a hand to try and push one guy away as he rears back with his bata. It looks like he is about to swing, but instead he lowers his shoulder and actually tries to move forward and get his legs moving to free himself from the gangsters. One is also unlucky enough that they might end up with a face full of headbutt from the Ikari.
COMBATSYS: Faolan successfully hits Hitmen with Celtic Crush.
- Power hit! -
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Faolan 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Hitmen
Oh, it was ending up bad.
But not for Faolan.
The human wave crashes violently as it hits the unbreakable cliffface that is Faolan, and four others stumble back, tossed off balanced by the assault. The fifth, however, still remains chance's least favorite as he finds himself the focus of attention. He sees the bata, and has learned from the first strike. He brings up an arm to block the impact of the bata, face grimacing in pain to brace for it. But the pain is not what he expects, as the headbutt comes flying into his nose. As the other guns fall to the ground, the fifth joins them as he suddenly takes a sharp dive to the liquor-soaked ground of the nightclub. Blood trickling from his ear, his face, his eyes wide and dazed.
Five gangsters becomes four.
But one of them speaks, a sense of resolve coming over the group. Anger. Justified anger, as one look goes to the downed man from one of the thugs, his face tightening in anger. The gangster suddenly unites his companions. What should have broken them, only made them mad. Surging back towards Faolan, he breaks out a thin wire. Attempting to hook it around Faolan's neck, he positions behind him, to strangle him as his companions take shots punching Faolan in the gut. But that shout comes, to bring it all together.
"This is for Kujara you bastard!"
Mr. Brown, meanwhile, looks towards his exits. The five men were caught up with a stranger. Chance had decided to favor him, at least the for the moment. Carefully, he tucks away his gun, and begins to roll the table along with one hand, the other hand clutching the attache case tightly. He moves cautiously, stealthfully. He didn't know who this angry stranger was, or why he was interrupting this hit.
But he has a feeling it isn't in his best interest to stick around.
COMBATSYS: Faolan blocks Hitmen's Hold and Punch.
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Faolan 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Hitmen
Too early to be doing any celebrations yet. Faolan may have been able to fend off the group and even seemingly eliminate one from the equation, but he is still outnumbered and he needs to finish them off fast so Mr. Brown doesn't slink away into the night and out of sight without Faolan getting any chance to finally corner the guy himself and ask some questions. Out of the corner of his eye he does see that table start to roll, but he has little chance to do anything about it since he finds the four remaining gangsters looking to get revenge for what just happened to their friend. It looks like perhaps they didn't learn their lesson.
The first of them gets around to his proper positioning, but his attempt to get the wire firmly around the neck of the Ikari is met with resistance when Faolan manages to shoot a hand up to tug back and keep it from choking him. It still leaves him open for the punch fest the other three unleash and he grunts and staggers a bit from the blows. The hand gripping the bata at least remains free which allows him to make a few wild swings. Partially to try and knock the three punching him away, but also to maybe swing and connect with the asshole that is currently trying to choke the life out of him.
COMBATSYS: Hitmen blocks Faolan's Medium Strike.
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Faolan 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Hitmen
Too late for regrets as well.
Faolan had four men left, but he was staring down the barrel of street justice. Kujara wasn't the man bleeding on the ground, but Faolan didn't know that. As far the gangsters knew, Faolan was in cohoots with Mr. Brown. And as far as Faolan knows, these were a bunch of hoodlums. But one thing was certain. Faolan wanted Mr. Brown alive. And that was enough. The gangster struggles to get the wire around the Ikari Warrior's neck, but soon realizes that this wasn't going to work.
But he wasn't going down like this.
Rather than taking a stick to the face, he releases the garotte, stumbling back with smash. The other gangsters, attempting to take the opportunity, are likewise beaten back. And there, they wait. The four have Faolan surrounded. The garotter suddenly barks an order, pointing towards the rolling table. One of the gangsters nods, looking down at one of the guns, and dropping towards it. As that gangster picks up the gun, he fiddles in his suit jacket, pulling out another clip. The guns were out of ammo. Mr. Brown's table begins to pick up pace, while the three other gangsters decide to take their opportunity. One of them comes surging in towards Faolan, throwing a left hook, and a right straight, right for Faolan's face. To create the opening, of course, for his companions.
For Kujara
COMBATSYS: Faolan endures Hitmen's Power Strike.
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Hitmen
It wasn't quite as planned, but given he was pretty much just flailing wildy at that point it got the job done. He at least no longer is having to deal with the garotte anymore and he gets a short moment to try and collect his wits and catch his breath. Eyes dart about quickly and he makes note as to where Mr. Brown is still athe moment. Shit, at this rate the guy is going to get away without Faolan knowing if the man truely is involved with the Syndicate or not. He needs to think fast and find a way to take care of his new friends as well as at least hamper Mr. Brown's plans for escaping. Wait, was that a gun being reloaded?
He starts to turn his attention to the gangster fumbling with his gun and it takes his attention away from the one that gets brave enough to charge at the Ikari on his own. That fist slams into the jaw of Faolan and the following straight hits home too. What the gangster might not be so glad to see is the fact Faolan actually is smiling when that fist pulls away. His lip is split and his nose is bleeding too, but the man just gave Faolan a bit of an idea. "Hey, be of some use." he says and looks to jab one end of the bata hard into the gangster's stomach. There is a crackling sound as blackish looking energy starts to swirl around the bata and surge along it towards the end jabbed into the man's abdomen. With a grunt, Faolan then attempts to heft the man upwards and use the sudden release of energy to not only launch him away, but if he is lucky he has done his best to aim the main right towards Mr. Brown and his wonderful rolling table.
COMBATSYS: Faolan successfully hits Hitmen with One for the Road.
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Faolan 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Hitmen
Gun down.
The clips are swapped around, the fresh ammo being loaded in. The gangster doesn't even notice how the gangster creates the opening, tearing into Faolan. He was focusing on the table, to keep Mr. Brown from escaping. That was at least one thing that Faolan and them had in common. Mr. Brown had to be made an example. The boss did not like chaos and strife on his streets. The natural order, the new order was peace. Enforced peace. Mr. Brown represented a breach in that order.
And he would be enforced.
The trigger is pulled. Shouts are made from the gangsters. But the shot goes wide as the gunman takes a bata squarely in the face. The gangster is already unconscious, thankfully, as he is seized. The other gangsters try to step in, the one gangster confused at why his punches didn't even seem to slow him down. The gunman is hurled. The gunman is thrown. The table ceases rolling.
And the table shatters.
A second shot comes. Mr. Brown's gun was out again, gun trained on the thrown man. And the third shot comes. Instinctively the gun trains back towards the fray, the remaining three gangsters counting the prospects of facing two armed men. Hand clutching the handle of the case, Mr. Brown rises up, face stoic, as he runs for the bar counter. More cover. He was hopping from cover to cover, trying to cautiously work his way to the exit. A risky man would just bolt for it.
Mr. Brown had enough to do with Chance already.
As the third shot finishes, the garotter moves back in. Another attempt to get the wire around Faolan's neck. But the other two gangsters were not leaping at the opportunity. They were preparing for it, instead. One pulls out a nunchuck. The other? Readies brass knuckles. AS the weapons come out, they direct their attention to Faolan briefly. It had to be briefly. Should the garotter catch Faolan up, the others would begin to beat down on Faolan.
Purely professionally.
COMBATSYS: Hitmen successfully hits Faolan with Gang-Up Beating EX.
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Faolan 1/--<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\==-----\1 Hitmen
Things are really starting to go beyond chaotic at this point. It isn't exactly easy to keep track of so many things at once. At least the amount of people Faolan has to concentrate on are starting to get lower and lower. A good thing given that even if he is handling being outnumbered rather well it makes for less room for mistakes when he is only dealing with three men attacking him instead of five. Something that is still made tougher is the fact that Mr. Brown is moving about so much and makes for quite a distraction. One that ends up costing Faolan.
He gets too focused on Mr. Brown that the Ikari forgets about the garotter. There is success this time as he feels that wire tighten around his neck and he reaches up to claw a bit at the wire. He has nowhere really to go at that point and he is left wide open for the other two gangsters to get several good hits on him. It would seem the numbers game finally got the best of him and the Ikari is finally neutralized.
Legs start to buckle and he starts to slump. Even so that grip on his bata remains tight and he fights to try and catch his breath and keep from passing out. The strikes continue to rain down on him when he finally manages to muster up what strength he has left and he starts to fight back. Downed to one knee, Faolan manages to surge forward as well as back up to both feet as he starts to twirl that bata. Several quick strikes more than hard ones aimed to just stagger the men attacking him as well as two quick swings around to try and catch the garroter in the kidney with a well placed shot. Something to get him to loosen that grip so Faolan can be allowed more movement. If he manages to he starts to become a flurry of strikes looking to slam against his three attackers, the last strike looking to slap the garroter right across the face. "Hnnnnggettoff!"
COMBATSYS: Faolan successfully hits Hitmen with Carry the Coffin.
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Faolan 0/-------/------<|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Hitmen
Mr. Brown doesn't emerge from the counter.
As the garotter snatches up Faolan, the wire cuts deep. The other two gangsters move. A smash to Faolan's face, a punch to the ribs. There was too much chaos; not just for Faolan, but for Mr. Brown, for the gangsters, for this night club. The was what happens when chance gets free reign. Fortunately for Faolan, skill trumps chance. As the brass knuckles man ready a final punch in the face, Faolan loses it. The flurry of swings as they try to corner down Faolan end up as their doom; the two non-garroted men take the full brunt of the assault, collapsing backwards with faces bloodied and bruised. The garotter is knocked free away by the jabs to the kidneys, his only mercy being that he is the last man standing. Dropping the wire, he brings up his guard, his face twisted in a scowl.
And then Mr. Brown emerges from behind the counter, shutting the case.
In his free hand was something very, very familiar to Faolan. A block of orange puddy, wrapped in plastic packets loaded with what seems to be dust and nails. On the outside, a digital timer stapled on. Crude. But all too familiar. Semtex. Plastic Explosive. With a little extra. The kind of special that the old IRA would hand out. Mr. Brown doesn't even turn to look, tossing the brick like it was an old gum wrapper into the middle of the room, his face that stoic grimace. He walks briskly, letting the device do the dirty work. As the timer on the clock ticks to single digits, Duke's enforcer breaks for the back room of the night club. THe remaining gangster looks dumbfounded at the explosive. And then, he runs for cover. Any cover.
As the timer finally ticks down to 0:00.
Boom.
COMBATSYS: Hitmen successfully hits Faolan with Molotov Storm.
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Faolan 0/-------/----<<<|>>-----\-------\0 Hitmen
That surge of energy and the flurry of strikes manages to allow Faolan to shed his attackers at least momentarily. It might be too late in the long run given the fact just dealing with those five has taken alot out of the Ikari. If Mr. Brown proves to have any combat capability things could get problematic. Faolan might still be standing, but would he have enough in the tank to keep going and subdue Mr. Brown properly as well? He gasps for breath as he staggers and attempts to get his footing back. He squints as he tries to fight the blurred vision he is experiencing right now. He finally focuses enough that he notices Mr. Brown emerge from behind the bartop.
What that man holds is not a sight that Faolan wanted to see. "Oh god dammit." he mumbles when the bomb is tossed his way and he isn't as swift as the gangster in trying to avoid the blast. The timer reaches 0:00 and the explosion rocks the entire club. Faolan is sent flying and crashes into several tables. He got some distance away from the blast, but not near enough. Not even close enough to find cover. All in all Mr. Brown has to feel relieved. Everything should be fine now.
"You son of a bitch...." Then again perhaps that isn't the case. Debris shifts and the Ikari starts to get up as he staggers and flails a bit to get himself out of the heap he landed in. "I swear you better come quietly at this point or I'm...I'm..." He must leave what he will do up to Mr. Brown's imagination. Given it is more of a mumble the bomber probably doesn't even hear him. Faolan isn't sure what happened with the gangster that is left and at this point he doesn't even care. The guy that just tried to blow him up now has the Ikari's full attention as he starts to lurch forward, the blackish energy he wields lightly coils around an arm and starts to siphon into the bata.
COMBATSYS: Faolan gathers his will.
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Faolan 0/-------/<<<<<<<|>>-----\-------\0 Hitmen
COMBATSYS: Hitmen successfully hits himself with Molotov Storm.
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Faolan 0/-------/<<<<<<<|>>>>---\-------\0 Hitmen
One part Nailbomb.
One part fuel-air explosive.
All pain.
The blast tears across the dancefloor, eating up the oxygen, blasting apart the windows, ripping into both the Ikari and the last standing gangster. The last standing gangster... doesn't, collapsing in a pool of his own blood, bleeding from the shrapenal, gasping for air. Mr. Brown himself isn't spared, the device biting him in the back, tearing up his brown suit jacket, flaying his skin raw. But he was at the back door now, meeting his goal. He turns the knob, he pushes the door.
But then, chance steps it.
Mr. Brown struggles with the doorknob. Suddenly, he gives it a kick. When nothing yields, he begins to move faster and faster. This was a complication. As he draws out the gun, he fixes it at where a dead bolt would be. A door brace. Something was blocking the door. And then, the click comes. Out of ammo. He draws back into his pocket, moving swiftly, sweat forming on his brow. Staring down the ways at Faolan, he tries to get the gun reloaded. This was his way out. Faolan wasn't supposed to be standing after the explosion.
ANd there he was.
Unbroken.
And very, very mad.
COMBATSYS: Hitmen lets out a large yawn, slouching.
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Faolan 0/-------/<<<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: Hitmen can no longer fight.
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Faolan 0/-------/<<<<<<<|
Unbroken? Well perhaps not so much. There is shrapnel seen still buried in exposed parts of his skin. His clothing is tattered all over and really the only thing that isn't harmed from the looks of it is his bata somehow. No char marks are even seen on the oaken weapon somehow. All Faolan can hope is this was damn worth it. If this has nothing to do with what he was sent to check out he is going to be even more angry than he is at the moment. That could make things even worse for Mr. Brown right now if that is truely possible.
Faolan grabs Mr. Brown and then just pushes him up against the door. For how beat to hell he looks he still manages to have quite a bit of strength. The adrenaline must be pumping t hrough him something fierce at this point because at a closer look there is no way the guy should be standing still. "In a way I just saved your ass, but at the same time you better talk or I will do things much worse than any of those two bit goons were gonna do to ya. At least they were gonna kill you quickly." He tosses Mr. Brown to the ground then a big old boot comes to rest on the downed man's chest. "So start talkin'. You look like a man that knows what is going on in this town and I just happen to be working for an interested party."
COMBATSYS: Faolan has ended the fight here.
Caught.
IN hindsight, detonating a bomb in a nightclub was not the best means of keeping a low profile. He thought it would stop Faolan, or slowed him down. AS he struggles to reload, the gun is torn away as Faolan takes him and slams him against the door. The man gasps in pain, but his face does not show it. He stares into Faolan's eyes, brow furrowed, face damp with sweat. He is simply silent through the threats, and when he is finally smashed down to the ground, only then does he speak.
But his expression does not change.
"Oui. I understand." He responds in a grim, calm tone. Up close, the depths of Mr. Brown's own injuries are clear. A bullet wound in the shoulder. Nails buried in his own body. Bruises and burns all around. Where Faolan is pushed through by sheer grit, Brown seems to be unfazed on the other end of the emotional spectrum. He seems almost bored by his injuries. "You are not local. You are not with my people. And you are not Interpol." The man inspects Faolan's injuries from his back, his lips tightening as the boot comes down more. "You look like you can barely stand. You can do nothing to me. I am not afraid of you." Mr. Brown's neutral expression does not crack. He did not seem afraid.
But a bead of sweat trickles down his brow.
So the guy wants to play things the hard way. Faolan has to give the man credit. He doesn't seem really to flinch despite his wounds and being roughed up. "Yanno? I got run over by a tank once and I got up from that too. I don't think yer little toy is going to be enough to cause me to fall over so you can get away." he responds and the boot moves away only long enough for Faolan to park his ass right on top of the man's chest. He stretches out his legs and gets as comfy as he can while giving Mr. Brown an light pat on the cheek a few times. "There, now it is fine if yer not afraid of me, but well the guy I work for isn't as nice and patient."
He grins a bit and reaches up to wipe at some of the blood on his face as if attempting to clean himself up. He also starts to pick at his arm where he starts to pull out a nail that embedded itself in there. He grunts and finally gets it out. "So you can talk here ta me or I can haul ya all the way out to South America if you are wanting a vacation. I am sure Heidern would be more than happy to show you some proper Ikari hospitality." No, he probably really wouldn't do such a thing just because it would be too much trouble, but the guy looks like a professional and knows his stuff. Mentioning the name Heidern enough might make his lips a bit more loose. "So what will it be?"
He almost keeps his composure.
Mr. Brown looks into Faolan. He has been tortured before. He was not afraid of torture. He was not afraid of Faolan so far. As he takes a seat on him, a grunt comes, a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Groaning a bit, he keeps up that stoic gaze, ignore the pat on the cheeks. Nothing more comes from the man so far, his focus unbreaking.
But words 'Ikari' and 'Heidern' do get a reaction from the man, however.
The stoic expression recoils as his eyes goes wide, his jaw slack, before recovering with a swallow. He looks around shiftily licking his lips. And with that, the silence is broken by fast, nervous speech. "Oui, oui, I will talk." He growls in that thick french tongue. "The Syndicate is making a move back into Southtown. There is a ganglord here that drove the Syndicate out. All gang activity in the city goes through him. We are fixing that." The man shifts a bit, testing the strength of the Ikari briefly.
"Am I free to go now?"
Faolan remains seated and even the fidgeting doesn't seem to bother him too much. Of course if Mr. Brown decides his best to squirm out he finds that the Ikari still has quite a bit of strength left in him to keep the man under him in his place. He mulls over what he is told and idly drums his fingers against the bata. So Southtown just traded out the Syndicate for some other guy that has decided to make himself at home with Geese taken care of. "So a little gang war is eruptin'.....I see." Now who the Syndicate might be fighting with is another thing all together. Faolan wasn't told to look into there being a chance that some other group could be involved as well.
With a sigh he shakes his head. It seems like things might be more complicated than initially thought. He would just have to contact the base and let them know what he found out. Hopefully it is something useful given the annoyances he had to go through to get what he did. "What a pain. I would just like ta think the two groups would destroy eachother, but I don't think we would be that lucky." he considers the question that is posed to him and he just smiles again. "Free ta go? Sure, just one last thing." Mr. Brown gets a taste of just how much strength Faolan has still. The Irishman raises his hand and then slams his big fist right into the kisser of Mr. Brown as hard as he can manage. He grumps and starts to get up afterwards. Reports aren't going to make themselves afterall. He can get that out of the way and clean up. He is certain he will have new orders soon enough.
Log created on 14:59:38 05/11/2013 by Duke, and last modified on 20:52:10 05/11/2013.