Guilty Until Proven Innocent

OOC: Wanted to start kind of an action thread. My char Tanya King also known as The Man Hunter, is a bounty hunter and pretty hard character. She is after someone who is accused of killing his girlfriend and then skipping bail which his employer was instrumental in getting set. Problem is its all a set up.

My idea is that the employer has something to do with the frame up and the guy's disappearance. A frame up in a frame up. The guy might know something he's not supposed to know or some other reason. I am leaving that character and his past totally in the hands of whoever wants to jump in and play him.

There is also lots of possibilities for other parts in this. The employer is only one of them and can be male or female. I just want to set up a little fun and action. Anyone who wants to join is welcome and use your imagination as to characters.

Descript of Tanya: Average height, dark hair and hazel eyes. Wears black. Shirt, pants, vest, boots. Everything is black.

IC:I walked into the bar, pausing just inside the door looking around. It wasn't the first time I had come here. Hell, Karl, the bartender new me by site and was one of my regular informants. It was force of habit. You never knew when you were going to find a bit of cash in the form of a bail jumper sitting in a corner of a dark bar thinking he or she was safe for the moment while they wet their whistle. I always liked to prove to them that they were wrong.

Pulling zero recognition on anyone there, I sauntered over to the bar. Yeah, sauntered. It's an old phrase meaning I knew how to swing my hips to focus everyone's attention on me when I wanted it. Tonight I was fishing for anyone who would know the whereabouts of my newest target and bail jumper. Since most people around these parts knew me by sight I shouldn't have any trouble getting someone to come to me with information. It was the easiest way.

Sliding onto a seat at the bar, Karl slide me a drink. I didn't even have to tell him what I wanted...scotch...he knew. I took a sip and then reached into a pocket on my vest and drew out a picture, tossing it on the counter.

"Seen him?" I asked the bartender and owner of the place.

Karl looked over at it and shrugged, going back to wipping glasses with a less than clean towel. "Only what I seen on television," He said not even raising an eyebrow. "Pre-trial was on all the channels. Something about killing his girlfriend. His bosses high priced lawyers and connections got him bail when no one thought he would. Then he disappears, skipping bail and pretty much looking like he did it even though he yelled all through the court that he was innocent and had been framed."

"Yeah, thats the guy," I said running my hand through my dark hair,"I'm the one that has to bring him in. Presumed armed and dangerous."

Karl laughed. "Thats why they put the Man Hunter on the case." He said before being called over to fill an order further down the bar.

The Man Hunter, thats me. Kind of funny, you would think that nickname would be for a guy instead of a girl but my track record of captures is so good that it stuck after a newspaper did an article on one of my biggest cases. I'm a bounty hunter. Someone breaks the law and skips bail...I'm there. Especially if the price is right. And the price was very right for this one. The employer who had talked the courts into setting bail was putting it up himself. Didn't blame him. No one wants to be betrayed like that.

I finished my drink by the time that Karl could return. Pushing my glass away, I indicated that one was enough and put the picture back in my vest pocket.

"Hey, Tanya," Karl was one of the only people to call me by my name,"Might try the east side. If someone wanted to disappear, that would be where they would go."

"Yeah," I said, already having come to that conclusion if Karl didn't know anything,"I know."

Stepping out into the night, I paused to light up a cigarrette and stare at the sky. Sometimes I wondered what would make people do the things I track them down for. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I do what I do. I come to the same conclusion. Someone's got to.

Tossing my cigarette away, I slide into my car and start the motor. East side. Not the best place for a girl to be at this time of night. Of course, I'm not your average girl either.

Definitely interested in being hunted.

I'll PM you, then think up a post.

Great. I will be looking forward to it.

OOC:

Brandon Smythe. I have aimed for a character that you can love or hate. Athletic, blue eyes and light brown hair. Annoyingly suave Detracting from this, once you know how convincing he can be, everything about him becomes suspect.

Born British, first employment as a photographer for the gutter press over there. Photo-journalist now, war stories etc in a bunch of foreign and unsafe places. Therefore has experience evading dangerous people, and a fast talker in more than one language.

Easy to see as egotistical and arrogant. Often called a war-pornographer by peers but this may be more to do with the indecent amounts of money he has made, that others taking similar risks have not. Despite this accusation, and despite looking like a Hollywood interpretation of a war journalist , his face has not become famous although his name is moderately well known.

IC:
On her back in a folding deck chair, skin glistening as she sunned herself and one knee slightly across the other in unconscious modesty.

Snap. On her stomach legs spread showing all, charred flesh. One corner of that favorite dress, all that remained. No.

Smiling in that Mona-Lisa way, updated for the 90’s with white, perfect American smile. I wish I still had that photo.

Snap. Lips gone, eyes sockets, teeth a matt black with a bright red arrow overlayed, some point of forensic trivia.

Snap. One foot, almost unburnt but entirely coated in an oily black residue. No. No. No.

This was not her. They kept saying it was, the police whom had first interrogated me, taking great pleasure in saying her name along with each slide. This is Jill, picture after picture. She is hideously dead. This is Jill. But it wasn’t. I would not allow these images to become my last memories of her. Jill was the definition of alive so this was not her. Yet now the pictures had a life of their own, in my head.

They wanted to see my grief, so they could judge my performance. I had refused to give them the pleasure.

+++

I found myself sitting on the corner of a single bed in a modest hotel room. I didn’t exactly know why I was there. Jack had driven me there from the courthouse, saying something about avoiding the press, which was amusing, since Jack practically was the press.

There was a knock on the door. “Room service,” someone called. I hadn’t asked for anything. Perhaps Jack had? I peered through the fish eye lens to see two men in uniform, by a cloth covered trolley.

Trouble.

“Just a moment,” I delayed, retreating to the bathroom, checking the windows.

“We have to check your room,” came the voice, and the sound of something rattling in the mechanical lock. “I need to get something on,” I returned. They didn’t believe me any more than I believed them and neither of us cared. They just wanted me to doubt my senses and not shout for help till they were in the room. I wasn’t going to shout while they were willing to waste time picking that lock, and not just kick the door in. So we sort of bantered, through the door.

They came through as I broke a window in the bathroom. This time they didn’t try for finesse but the bathroom door opened outwards and took a few kicks, giving me enough time to escape.

More than one thing had tipped me off about those two, but most of all I’ve a knack for spotting a familiar face. A useful skill for a tabloid photographer, which had been my first job before circumstances had suggested a change of employment, and country, and name.

I had seen these two outside the courthouse, in an unmarked car. What had drawn my attention to them, it suddenly occurred, was Jack. Jack had looked around, his eyes had fixed on these two for just a fraction of a second before he got into the car.

No way would I go to the police on this. And ask for custody? No thank you. Some vague conspiracy theory was not going to help my case, not when I was as good as convicted.

Someone had taken everything from me, yet I still had something they wanted. If I could figure out what that was, I could figure out how to make them pay. For Jill.

Tanya lazily smoked a cigarette, staring up at the stars. Same activity, different place, something new added. This time there was defiantly something new. She could hear the grunting, groaning and straining coming from the man who lay on the ground, the heel of her boot pressed into his juglar vein. He was trying to get away and not making much progress.

"Okay," She said in a calm, cool voice,"One more time or this time you don't breath for longer. Have you seen the man in the picture?"

The man gasped and coughed finally croaking out that he didn't. She believed him. Taking her boot off of his neck she bent down and put her cigarette out on the ground so close to him that he could feel the heat.

"See, now how simple is it to answer a straight question instead of making lewd remarks and trying to 'see whats under the jacket'?" She said to him with a smile,"Next time just say yes or no and give the information and you might be able to swallow in less than a week."

Walking off, she frowned. Damn, no leads at all. Its as if he disappeared from the motel the guy's employer had said he was at after the trial and then off the face of the earth. Not possible unless he was six feet under but she wasnt going to assume anything until she saw the body for herself. For right now he was alive and free and she was out to change that.

Getting in her car again, she bit her lower lip. Where to now? He would have to eat. So next she canvassed the local grocery stores and resturants around the motel. A monotonous job but sometimes it could pan out. This was going to be a long night.

OOC:

Hi guys, I'll be playing Gill's brother, who goes off on his own vigilante style crusade, unware that his parents have hired Tanya for the job. He'll be tough to turn around on this as its his emotions driving him along the road, but it could be interesting.

The Character;

'The deceasts older brother, Hank (29) who formally worked for GMC has recently gone missing following the disapearace his sisters killer. In a plea to have their son return home their parents will be appearing on Oprah tommorrow night in their first interview since this ordeal started with the murder of their daughter Jill, over nine months ago.'

Below the article is a picture of Hank Redcroft, tall medium build. The average Joe on the block, short scruffy black hair and a chin that he might get to the age of fifty without shaving.

IC:

It takes longer for me to get out of bed than I remember, the only time similar would have been in highschool. I wake early enough, but it take longer for my body to agree with my mind, and my eyes sting whenever I open them to the single shaft of daylight that I can never close the curtains enough to block.

Memories? Just another reason not to get up from bed, but ironicly the same memories are the reason to get up. My sisters death.....no, brutal murder is the sole reason for my existence. He destroyed her, and my family, and now expects to get away with it...

The snooze alarm switches back on the fifth time and my left hand slips out from under the cover and presses the required button easing the pain in my ears. 09:37, no time left to waste I guess.

By 10:45 I have eaten my room service breakfast, washed and changed and sat myself on the edge of the bed. Unloading and loading the pistol which I bought from the Espanic drug dealer from the Irish Bar two blocks down. I don't know what time I sat down, I can't recall how long I've been there, but the knock on the door reminded me that I better put the gun away and check out.

I heard on the news yesterday that they think that I'm dead. They think that I went after Jills sister...I can't bring myself wo say the fuckers name...and got myself killed. I haven't even made a concerted effort to disapear. All the more reason to hunt that bastard down, if they can't find me...using my credit cards and dricing my Red Viper. What chance have they got of catching a guy who doesn't want to get caught.

At least I have his scent...

Half a night of quizzing waitresses, grocery store workers and other motel employees turned up nothing about Mr Brandon Smythe but she did hear about some guy who had been asking the same questions as she had. By his description she thought he might be the deceased girl's brother.

Tanya had been approached about the case from the girls parents and told of the reward put out by the owner of the mag that Brandon Smythe worked for. Before deciding anything she had done some research into the family's background. It had turned up that the girl was not an only child. She had a brother by the name of Hank who had disappeared some months before shortly after her death and before Smythe had been captured. He was presumed to have tangled with Mr Smythe and met the same fate as his sister. At the trial they tried to pin that one on him too but with no body and no proof of murder they had no case. The matter was dropped. Tanya's guess to why he didnt reappear after hearing of Smythe's capture was because it wasn't long before the fugitive was on the loose.

Now it seemed that Hank was alive and well and looking for Mr Smythe too. She didn't need a damn renegade family member searching for her jumper. The only thing that would get them was another body, and it wouldn't be Smythe's.

Dropping her enquires, she decided to nip this in the bud. She would confirm that it was indeed him and then she would notify the parents. At least part of their grief would be lightened to find their son, at least, was alive.

Thats how she ended up knocking on the door of 207 in a seedy hotel that looked as if the groundskeeper had taken a vacation...about three years ago and never returned. She could hear the rustling in the room and knew he was in there. She could wait.

Lighting yet another cigarette, she leaned against the door frame and looked out at the daylight. No sleep in 18 hours. Not a record for her but not good considering she had to be on her toes when she was on a case.

Reaching over, she knocked on the door again, louder this time and waited again. He would get the message she wasn't going away soon. And she had time.

The knocking became more insistant and Hank wondered whether or not he had placed the do not disturb sign on the door. Then he remembered that those signs meant 'walk straight in' in Spanish so it couldn't have been housekeeping.

Between the next set of raps on his door he tried to think of who it could be, the police? no they would shout through the door and tell him. The manager? He looked over at his bag, he's used the pot up last week. Smythe.

The gun bolted up to face the door, his left hand balancing its wait and holding it steady by cupping his right. Step by step he edged toward the door. Knock knock knock. His heart began to race, could the bastard have found him? He'd been asking everywhere perhaps one of his interviewies had gone back to him. Knock knock knock. The tip of the gun rested against the door and he closed in to look through the eye piece, keeping the gun up againt the door and moving it in line with the shadow outside.

He signed in relief when he realised it wasn't him. It was a woman, attractive in the authoritive way, and she liked black. FBI? No there would be two, and she wouldn't be smoking a cigarette.

He had to make do with a dry swallow after finding his saliva had gone on vacation between his trip from the bed to the door, shaking his head and breathing hard outward Hank slipped the gun into his trousers after slipping on the saftey, and pulled his checkered shirt over it to conceal the hilt.

He opened the door.

"Sorry, about that I was in the bathroom. Can I help with anything?" He asked hoping to look a little more composed or conspicious than he really did...

Tanya looked at the man standing in the doorway. He looked like hell. But the descript fit the one she had been given for Hank. Taking one last drag from her cigarette, she slowly blew it out and gave him a hard stare.

"Thats funny," She said, leaning on the door and giving him the once over very slowly. She noticed the way that he was standing and the slight bulge in his pants. She was sure it wasnt a hard on from seeing her. The man had a gun. "Unless the bathroom is right by the bed there's no way in hell the noises I heard could have come from so far away. But a man in your position would have to be careful who he answered the door for. Don't go by looks. People aren't always what they seem."

Pushing her way into the room, not even asking for permission, she looked around and picked up the empty bag, sniffing it. Shaking her head she threw it back down and surveyed the rest of the room.

"You know, Hank," She said in a purposeful drawl,"Going out after your sister's killer while your high is not a smart thing to do. In fact, the smartest thing you could do right now would be to call your parents, tell them you are on your way home, pack your bags and get the hell out of the situation and let me do my job. You're going to get yourself killed. And, at this rate, it wont be long before that happens."

Pushing a pizza box off of a chair, she sat down, crossed her legs and looked at him. "You're out of your league. I know losing her hurt but what's it going to feel like for your parents if they have to hold a funeral for their only remaining child so soon after the first? You're not doing anyone any favors here, especially not your sister. Go home. I promise he wont get away with this."

Hurt ate at him like a rabid dog tearing at his intestines, with the door closed behind him he had followed her in, unimpressed with her sense of smell, but she did have one thing on him that suprised him. She knew who he was. But then, he was a celebrity after all.

She could pass for a hooker or a soldier, and he didn't particularly want to ask in fear of the backlash. Instead he let her talk on while he washed his face in cold water, made sure his hair was fine and then after composing himself re-entered the bed area.

"Good advice for the smoke lady, but I have a little before bed time now and again, not when I'm looking around."

True enough, he had been smoking about three spliffs a week on and off for six months, he made sure that there was distance between them before acting. She probably new kung-fu or bullet-time dressed in her matrix gear so he didn't want to be too close when he sat down on the bed.

Perhaps it was the pizza that hadn't settled in his stomach since last night, perhaps it was the fact he hadn't had a proper conversation in over two months, or perhaps he just wanted to, but her pulled the gun out and rested it on his leg aimed at Tanya.

"I don't want any trouble lady. But I don't take kind to people coming into my life and pretending they know it better than I. So please enlighten me with your perspective."

Tanya gave Hank a slow, menecing smile, seeming to ignore the gun. "Well, my first perspective is this...," She said her body relaxed as she sat back in the chair. Suddenly her hand whipped back under her jacket to the small of her back, coming out lightening quick with her own gun, pointed at Hank's head, her arm rock steady and her finger unwaivering on the trigger.

"....never, ever pull a gun unless you intend to use it," She still had the smile on her face, her hazel eyes hard. Getting up, she moved over to the bed in a slow saunter and reached for the gun, her eyes never leaving his face. "Number two perspective, never threaten anyone with a gun that is on safety. If you point it, make sure you can shoot it." She took the gun from his lap, clicked open the chamber and dumped the bullets on the bed, putting his gun where her's used to be and lowering her own.

"You had the gun down the front of your pants, either you were a wanna-be eunic or you had the safety on." The menace left her face and her posture relaxed and she headed over to sit back down in the chair."

"Call your parents," She said lighting another cigarette,"Let the professionals handle it. After all thats what they hired me for."

Hank was a little suprised at how quick she could move, he didn't really expect bullet time but hey this was the real world. He listened, slightly excited at having a gun pointed at him even though he knew that she wouldn't shoot him. "Well, I'm glad my parents have such good taste in bounty hunters." He watched her move back to her chair, "But I never thought I'd meet one with such concern over others, I thought you people were only in it for the buck lady." He stood up and looked at the phone, "I'll call my folks, no problem. But I'm not getting off this case. This bastard has to be found, I know him, I can even smell him...his thick putrid scummy scent he leaves in his wake.

"If my parents really hired you then fine, good for them. But I want to play an intergral part in his demise."

Tanya shrugged. "Movies can be bad PR," She said,"The only one I aim for is the guy I'm after. If I take an innocent life I'm not any better than he is and I should be rotting in the same jail cell along with the bastard."

She shook her head at his insistance. "Wrong," She said,"You'll get in my way and probably get killed or spook him off. I don't need someone hunting on their own and getting under my feet. I don't plan on tripping over you the whole time and you costing me my score."

Taking a slow drag on her cigarette, she added,"He'll be found. I promise but it wont be by you or anyone else. When he is captured it will be at the end of my gun."

He took in what she was saying, he wasn't stupid at any rate, but he insisted that he would be part of this. "Look, you found me, I have been trailing him, and have had no news or any detail pointing toward you chasing him either which by deduction puts you coming up behind me." He walked up to her, "I agree that Im no super slueth, or even a muscle guy, but I am good at working things out. And I know this guy, I went to his house for dinner with him and my sister, hell I even invited him to mine. If you dont want me running around like a loose cannon waiting to get my head blown off then atleast let me help you with the foot work." He was not going to back down on this.

Tanya crushed out her cigarette on the pizza box and shook her head. "Sweetie, the only thing that you not hearing of me chasing him means is that I know how to sleuth without letting anyone else know about it." He had a point about her not knowing where Smythe was but then again, neither did he.

"I don't do partners, especially rookie ones," She gave him a hard stare,"I don't rely on anyone but me. I don't know where he is right now but I will. And when I get there I'll do it without the possibility of someone screwing things up. Now call your folks and tell them your coming home or I will."

Fine this prooved that she was as stuborn as him, one of them had to back down or lie. "Fine." He turned around and picked up the phone, he rang his parents number, after a few minutes of 'yes I'm alright' and 'sorry for not calling' he advised them that he would be back in town soon enough, and that he would call again later when he didn't have someone listening to their conversation.

The reciever went back to the phone. "Satisfied?"

Tanya smiled and nodded. She wasnt sure if she should trust him to keep his word but she hadn't exactly been paid for this either, this was just a side favor to the parents. Now she could get back to looking for her real target...after getting some sleep."

"You made your parents very happy," She said as she rose and scooped up the ammo for his gun which she still had. "At least thats one kid they don't have to worry about anymore. Trust me, you will thank me for this later."

Opening the door, she squinted at the sunlight and reached in to take some sunglasses out of her pocket and slip them on. She really had to get some sleep. "Bye, Hank, have a nice life. At least now it will be a long one."

Stepping out into the glaring light, she walked down to her car. She had a place to crash, a friend that was out of town had given her the keys to his apartment in case she needed it with the instructions to just make sure it didn't get blown or shot up. She would go there for a few hours of rest.

Within twenty minutes she was stretched out on his couch and on her way to dreamland.

He didn't wait long before calling his parents back up, infact he did so just after he finished packing the rest of his clothes. Then after letting them know he'd be home hopefully within the week he left the hotel room wearing his new taylored black suit with his deep purple shirt and navy tie.

He opened the boot (trunk for you americans of the car and threw his bag on top of his scabard. She was right, he didn't know how to use a gun, his talents led in another direction. Locking the boot he slipped into the drivers seat and slipped it into reverse before driving out of the lot and onto the busy streets.

'Jerry's Armpit' was a club build into an old warehouse within the dockland. A place where a lot of the community went to take drugs and listen to the head pounding music which Hank could never get into, unlike his sister...

This was the club that the local council refused had anything to do with the community, a place which it ignored and instead pretended that out of towners used the place more than their own youngsters. The sort of place that all his tails ended. All except one other that is, but he wasn't about to go into that one right now. Hank wasn't stupid enough to do something rash after someone had just made him aware of how utterly stupid it would be for him to go head to head with the guy.

But this club had informants, people who would speak for the right amount of money. It took him three hours to actually find the place, before he drove off to get something to eat. He knew exactly where it was, now all he had to do was wait until opening.

Her cell phone rang and, not opening her eyes, she reached into her pocket and flicked it open putting it to her ear and saying,"This had better be a matter of life and death or I can make it that way." She was not the most pleasant person in the world when awaken from sleep.

"Hunter," The voice on the other end was of an informant she had called before confronting Hank at the motel. His instructions had been to watch and make sure the young man actually went home after she left. He had been in a car in the parking lot when she left but she was professional enough not to look over at him and give it away when she drove off. She knew he would be there, she had used him several times before. "He left the motel room, with his bags but I don't think he is planning to go home. He's sitting in a diner on West 14th."

Tanya yawned and reached for her cigarettes. "So? He's hungry. I saw how old the pizza in the box was. If thats all he's eaten I don't blame him. In fact I would include a bicarbonate with the meal."

"He went to check out a place before he went to the diner. Jerry's. You know the one. Seemed to be casing it."

"Shit," Tanya said as she lit a cigarette with one hand. She knew the place alright, sleaze city."Fuck! What the hell does he think he's doing? He's playing with fire and he's going to go up into flames if he doesnt watch out. Okay, Spike, thanks. Take off and the payment for your services will be in the usual place. Don't spend it all at once and make sure she's clean this time. I don't need you out of commission for two god damn weeks again."

There was a laugh and the person on the other end hung up. Tanya sat there, finishing her cigarette and mentally cursing Hank. It looked like her instincts were right. Gun or no gun he was still going to try and find his sister's killer.

Forty minutes later, she was at the diner and searching for him in one of the boothes. When she found him, she walked over and slid into the booth, waving a waitress over and ordering coffee....lots of it.

"Okay, Slick," She said when the waitress left. "Did I not make myself clear in the motel room or do you just have a bad memory and selective hearing?"

He looked up, let her talk and nodded for her to sit down, not caring whether or not she took it. Instead he ate his food. Drunk some coffee, and then looked at her in a suprised yet annoyed fashion. "Look....." He gave the look which men all over the world had mastered, 'whats your name?'

"Tanya."

"Look Tanya, Im eating my food. I thought you would be more interested in where Smythe is than where I choose to eat."

Tanya didnt answer because the waitress had come back and set a coffee cup and filled it. She waived her to leave the pot and turned back to Hank.

"Don't bullshit me. You didnt just stop in here for a meal," She told him taking a drink of her coffee,"I set a tail on you and I know where you went. I also know you wont get out of there alive. It's not the best place in town. If there is something about Smythe that leads to that place than I will go and get the answers. You will go home and get the hell out of danger."

He'd had enough of the games. "Look Tanya, I'm going in there wether you like it or not. I know what place it is, I know how to handle my self, and you know that too if you know that much about me." He drank some more coffee, and was suprised at the way she waited for him to continue.

"If you want to beat me up, knock me out then fine. Expect legal prosecution on your ass straight away. But you've got me on this whether you like it or not. So you better get used to it, or just get off my back. Besides, you might even find I'm a pretty resourcefull man, and one of the good guys."

Tanya sighed and let him continue his rant. When he was done, she said, simply,"You are a pain in the ass for sure."

Shrugging she added,"Legal prosecution might be harder than you think if I prove I did it to keep your irresponisble ass out of trouble. In fact your parents might even add to the reward if I trussed you up, threw you in the trunk of my car and dumped you at your house. However, I have a feeling you wouldn't stay there for long. You know, stubborness isnt always a virtue. Sometimes it can be a failing when you dont know your limits."

Sitting back in the booth, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "Fine, we go in tonight but dont you dare do a damn thing unless you run it by me first and if you say one friggin thing that I think is going to get us into a bad situation I will knock you out and chain you to the nearest light post and leave you there until this is over with."

"Thats a deal. You're the boss. Though I do intend to bruise my knuckles on his skull." He finished his coffee. Looked at his watch, another three hours before the club opened. "Shall we meet up later then?" Not particlarly wanting to argue continually for the next three hours, "I'm sure you can think of something else you'd rather be doing."

Tanya shrugged. "I can think of about a dozen things I would rather be doing than babysitting a rookie," She said in a tired voice. "You go ahead but remember, if you go in there on your own before we meet up and screw this up Mr Smythe will be the worst of your worries."

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into She thought to herself wondering why these jobs could never be easy. Then again she might be bored if they were too easy. But a few less complications would be really nice. That and about five more hours of sleep.