Description: Under the neon lights of the Las Vegas strip, a bounty hunter meets his bounty. The ensuing gunfight might not end the way either of them expects.
Vegas, the perfect place for someone to get lost for a few days. Plenty of places where no one wants a camera, and even more places where a nosy attitude is even less welcome. Also a great place to fence a pile of stolen microchips. The only obnoxious part is getting from place to place, having to brave the neon lights, the drunken idiots, and the constant temptations to make it even from a cheap hotel room to a halfway decent bar for a little well earned R&R.
One of the people making this trip is the thief known to most as Cheshire. His normal stand out in the crowd demeanor and dress much less out of the ordinary in the constant visual and audial noise of Las Vegas. He strolls along under the neon lights, hands buried in his pockets, looking like any other twenty something going on about his business despite the shock of electric blue hair that at least makes a small splash in the crowd. Though to the more keen observer, his eyes dart around taking in the sights and sounds quickly and disregarding what is unimportant, belying his lax demeanor. Petty pickpocketing is usually beneath him, but in a city like this where fortune turns on a dime, he's more than willing to make some people's amassed winnings just a little bit lighter.
He passes a young man, extremely drunk, but in a very happy and celebratory mood. Most likely a winner, the losers show their loss on their face as clear as the winners do theirs. Cheshire sweeps by, just the barest ruffle of clothing as they make contact in passing, and his fingers disappearing back into his pockets with a leather wallet that likely did not belong in his possession. At least the drinks would be 'free' tonight.
Life had been simple for the nefarious Wendigo. Smash and grab jobs, meaning go into Place A, smash Person B, and then Grab him to Destination C, that place generally being the police station, if not a special buyer. Then, after claiming his reward, blowing most of it on ammo, booze and chicks. By now, he'd made Cherrytappers a small fortune, and the dancers all knew him by name.
This relatively simple, local life was disrupted when he discovered a bounty for one Kyle 'Cheshire' DeLucca, though it was tight lipped about his crimes.
Wasn't tight lipped about his bounty, though.
That was why the loud revving of a Harley could be heard, a little bit behind Cheshire, and a big red machine was zipping pretty speedily down the pedestrian-only street, said pedestrians leaping out the way or getting flung aside by the rider: A big, seven foot albino ape of a man, dressed in black leather, and over his jacket, a sleeveless blue-jean vest, covered with patches and decorations. Strapped to his head, a WW1 German helmet, spike at the top and all, black hair hanging down underneath even as his face was lit up by the glowing embers of a lit cigar. Those red eyes were scanning faces and body shapes, deciding to save time on his search through this busy area by just riding on through.
"Out the friggin' way, jagoffs! Lookin' fer a nerd with faggy hair, anyone seen 'em? Huh?!"
Yeah, like a thief is going to just give himself away. Cheshire ducks behind a pillar, using the moment to pull up his hood, covering his hair from sight. Sometimes he questioned his own compulsion to dye his hair like that, then he went ahead and did it anyway. Because where's the fun in doing everything the way everyone else does. He mutters under his breath, anyway, trying to peek around the pillar at the gorilla on the bike, but took a moment to enjoy looking over the piece of machinery. If there was one thing he could appreciate, it was a well put together machine. Even if ridden by someone likely wanting to either kill him or beat the crap out of him.
He pulls up the bandana around his neck, covering the lower half of his face with a grin emblazoned bandana. Once again, and uncontrollable compulsion. He has a lot of those.
He unzips his hoodie, using every stealthy bone in his body as he reaches towards the underarm holsters holding his pair of handguns. Maybe he could get the jump on this guy. Running wasn't an option, he'd be spotted as soon as he made a break for it and this place was just one long road to run him down on. His real grin spreads behind the false one, at least until he sees the drunken young man he pickpocketed pointing right at him and shouting at the top of his lungs. "Bro! That dude's totally right here."
Crap.
COMBATSYS: Cheshire has started a fight here.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wendigo has joined the fight here.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Wendigo
The engine was killed, and the machine gave a long croak and cry of complaint as the three hundred pound powerhouse stepped up off of it and adjusted the crotch of his black jeans.
"Goddamn that's rough on the jewels. Especially drivin' overseas."
What?
It isn't explained, and as Wendigo turns around to face his quarry, he's already taking off his vest, and his leather jacket underneath it. Now, he was just dressed in those jeans(Nice and loose, not tight and not baggy), a pair of steel-toed boots, and of course, a black weapons harness that was strapped to his snow white body. Throwing knives, that revolver at his side, the sawed-off on his back, a bowie knife that could be compared to a machete on the back of his belt. It seemed that Wendigo came here to play, and brought all his fun little toys. He gave a humorless grin that made those glaring eyes narrow as he unstrapped his helmet, and slowly stepped toward the smaller fighter.
"Awright, ya little prick. Do ya come in quietly, or do I mail yer arms back to ya in a week?"
COMBATSYS: Wendigo takes no action.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Wendigo
Shakes his head, but more to make the hood fall off his head than to answer no. Well, if he's going to go out fighting, he's doing it in a blaze of blue. "See, that's not a very nice way to ask." He pulls his twin handguns out from their holsters, the knife blade bayonets attached to the bottom gleaming nice and sharp. And he kept those things against his ribs...
He lowers his guns, letting them hang loose at his sides as he tilts his head slightly, grey eyes regarding the large albino for a moment.
"Hmmmm.........."
He continues to stare at Wendigo, expression impossible to read behind his fake grin. Sometimes a schtick can be taken too far. Cheshire doesn't seem to know what 'too far' means. "Yeah, I'm going to have to say no." And then he bolts off to the side. Maybe he's not as nerdy as he seems at first glance, because for a moment he books it, then spins around, left handgun leveled at the bounty hunter. "Bang, bang."
His words are punctuated by twin shots from the gun, one aimed at each of the giant's shoulders.
COMBATSYS: Wendigo blocks Cheshire's March Hare.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Wendigo
Most people would probably have a different reaction at having a gun drawn on them, but Wendigo didn't even blink those red orbs of his. Instead, as Cheshire cocks back those hammers, the bounty hunter has his helmet off, and gripped in his left hand he almost lazily sweeps it in front of him, right to left. Timed perfectly, each bullet pounds into the head protection, and not his powerful body.
"Cute."
A split second later, that sawed-off is grabbed from his back and aimed at his quarry. Those eyes of Wendigo's are cold, like a killer's. He doesn't even flinch.
The hammers are pulled back. CH-CLICK.
...CH-BOOM!
COMBATSYS: Wendigo successfully hits Cheshire with Double Barrel of Monkeys.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Wendigo
Cheshire's head tilts to the side, as his bullets just go dinging into the helmet on the brute's head. "Well, damn." Then his eyes go wide as he's suddenly faced with a shot gun being leveled right at his face. "Oh wow, that's a nice gun, where'd you ge... CRAP!"
For a moment he forgot where he was, and starts to move in close, juking to the side to try and get around the spray of shotgun pellets, with no luck. They tear through his shoulder as he closes in, producing a pained wince and grimace from the thief, but he doesn't let that slow him down for the moment even with blood obviously pouring from a nasty wound. He's a stubborn cuss.
He moves in close, not afraid to close ground with the big galoot. And this close it's easy to see where he learned at least some of his combat, since he drops into a close quarters military style.
Yup. Military.
He pulls his good arm in towards his chest, and drives his elbow at the brute's midsection, hoping suddenly closing in will throw him off.
COMBATSYS: Wendigo endures Cheshire's Fierce Punch.
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Cheshire 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Wendigo
There's no way that the big man is as fast as the army strong Cheshire cat, and that's proven as the blue-haired berserker easily slips past the ivory terror's guard and smashes a sudden quick elbow right into the monster's diaphram, a surefire way to wind anyone and make sure they have no answer for you.
Wendigo immediately answers, with his right arm still aiming that shotgun where Cheshire used to be, his left slips up and grabs at the smaller man's jewels, taking a grip that would make a chimpanzee cringe if it worked. If it did, Cheshire would be taken off of his feet, to be eye level with the nefarious bounty hunter, all the better for that brutal headbutt to connect and send Little Bigman flying. This was not going to be pretty, if Cheshire couldn't get out of the way in time...
COMBATSYS: Wendigo successfully hits Cheshire with Combo Grapple.
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Cheshire 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Wendigo
"Too close! Too close!" Cheshire doesn't manage to get back in time for the rather embarassing grab. He let's out a strangled cry that would do his namesake proud, right before taking a blow to the face that sends him sprawling to the ground. He lays on his back for a moment, clutching a nose that has likely just been broken.. again. "So not cool!! A guy does not grab another guy's junk without buying him dinner first!" Yup, he said that.
He rolls to the side, and as he comes up on his back again, his handguns are tucked away safely in their holsters, and he's instead holding his own sawed-off double barrel shotgun. Where the hell was he even keeping that thing?
"SUCK IT!" He levels the shotgun right at the giant in front of him and pulls the trigger, both hammers slamming down and sending a spray of heated buckshot right at the big lug.
COMBATSYS: Wendigo endures Cheshire's Down the Rabbit Hole.
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Cheshire 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Wendigo
Weren't no dodging that, so Wendigo didn't even try. Instead, he puffed up his chest and tensed his muscles, just lowering his head so his eyes didn't get caught. Pellets and buckshot ripped through his white, tattooed body, through his chest and ripping through that black harness, bouncing off some of his throwing knives but also streaking through his stomach, though his bones were just too strong to be affected too much. He looked back up, spitting his almost-dead cigar out at the kid's feet, and slowly 'breaking' open that sawed off of his. Two spent red shells popped out and flipped through the air behind him, and he slowly grabbed two yellow shells from his pocket. That grin was back, his teeth almost looking yellow in comparison with the rest of him.
"Well, kid, it's like this. I'm gonna kill ya, or rip yer ears off, or I'm gonna pull out your teeth and make you eat 'em. You can choose between those three things...or you can convince me why I should let you go. Right now there's sixty thousand dollars that's mine when I bring ya in. So if ya got an idea, it's gotta be at least two mil. Go ahead, it's yer time ta shine."
As he spoke, the yellow shells were put into that double-barrel one at a time, and the double-barrel was promptly 'unbroken' again, the hammer pulling back. And those two barrels again aiming right at the poor bastard who'd already tasted the 'regular' version. This...this could be bad.
COMBATSYS: Wendigo takes no action.
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Cheshire 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Wendigo
Despite bleeding from one shoulder and his nose, he still manages to kip up to his feet, holding the shotgun infront of him across his chest. He's obviously staring at the shotgun the other man is holding. "Highest bounty on me right now is a hundred thousand, you're getting ripped off."
Not helping!
"I also hack in and delete the ones above that."
REALLY not helping!
He gulps softly as he eyes the shotgun again, then slowly lowers his own. Fortunately most people chose to vacate the street once gun fire started ringing out, others are hanging around and no few are videotaping the whole thing on their phones. Cheshire makes a note to take care of those later. "I have some chips I'm here to sell, easily worth a few hundred thousand, you can have the whole sale." He gulps softly, realizing this is not near the two million asked for. "Oh! Oh!"
"Bounty hunter, right? C'mon, wouldn't you want to have one of the best hackers in the world, in your back pocket helping you find your marks? C'mon, I normally charge thousands for that type of service, all free." Now he's sounding like the ShamWOW guy.
COMBATSYS: Cheshire takes no action.
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Cheshire 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Wendigo
The big man considered this for a moment, blood slowly oozing down his bullet holes, and Cheshire might notice something: From his big biceps, to his impressive tattooed pectorals, to his midsection hidden by that harness of his, little pellets and bits of buckshot were being 'pushed' out, even as those holes began to get smaller and smaller. And doing so far more rapidly than one would think is possible. Finally, after stroking that jet black handlebar mustache he'd been growing(and here his black fingernails were more noticeable, as was his long, straight black hair), he chuckled and uncocked that one hammer, flipping the sawed-off death machine, and holstering it behind him. He stepped forward with open arms, placing one across the shoulders of his former quarry.
"Ya got balls, kid, an' I like that. Glad I didn't rip 'em off like I was considering. Anyway, that ain't no employer-employee relationship, here's what I think: You get..."
From here, it was just business drivel, and a rather fair one, considering he could have indeed, just demanded all his work at no profit whatsoever. Mind you, he still got the lion's share of the deal...
Log created on 19:56:14 08/04/2014 by Cheshire, and last modified on 23:00:51 08/04/2014.