Always Double-Tap (NDIaC)

[Obuzeti]

Alternative Title: Saving the World, One Stolen Credit Card at a Time.

His name is Joachim Melvin Sauville, every inch of which he loathes with a burning passion, along with most of his family, the Louisiana white-wash manor he grew up on in the hills about the ruined city of New Orleans, and in fact most everything to do with the life he had before turning into a violent murder hobo.

In fact, let's just back up.

There's a man at the counter, looking equal parts planitive and pissed. The first immediate detail is that he's tall - this motherfucker stands easily six foot six at a minimum, maybe an inch or two more with how he's casually slouching against the counter. Rangy and lean, he's got the whipcord build that only the angry and the intense ever get to, the candle burning thin with raw, unmedicated fury. For all that he's smiling, but it's not a nice smile. Hunters don't do nice. They just sweet-talk you for as long as they have to.

Corded forearms thrust into the pockets of a leather jacket, he smiles wide and white at the stout man on the other side of the counter. It's an expression that'd fit more on a bear trap than a human being, and the unnatural stillness he holds it in only adds to the impression. "It's not like it's complex," he says, coaxingly, though his brown-nearly-black eyes are screaming horrid death at the other man. "I just need two dozen Foster slugs; me and my buddies are in the middle of a hunting trip. I'm tagged out already, but one of my guys fell into a stream and got his shells wet, the fuckhead. If I don't grab him some ammunition, he isn't going to get any shooting done at all. Help a man out here?"

"Your license doesn't apply in this state," the owner says, folding his own treetrunk-thick forearms across his chest.

Counter-man's eyes twitch, and something ripples across his pleasantly French features like the touch of evil. Clean-shaven and well-dressed, some kind of dark dress shirt and slacks (which unfortunately doesn't blend with the jacket well) but nothing can dim the raw violence in those eyes.

"I'll pay double," he tries, offering his ID again. At least it doesn't have that hated name on it. What, like he'd offer a real one?

 

[NDIaC]

Nia Rae Dayne pulled her green 1971 Ford F-100 into one of the numerous empty parking spots and let the engine idle. Coppery brown eyes lingered intently on the license plate of the junker car parked a few spaces in front of her. That was the one. That damn car had her driving up and down these backwater roads for weeks searching for it, well, not so much the car but its owner. He was a certain type of fellow that Nia liked to get up close and person with, along with her sawed off shotgun. Bertha was the name, not of the guy, the shotgun. She wasn't sure why she gave it that name, or even bothered naming it at all, but she looked like a Bertha. She (Bertha) had been aching to come out and play with this fellow; he had been calling out for a shot to the face for awhile now. Consorting with demons, sacrificing innocent people, and being a general asshat were the fellow's crimes and being that Nia was a hunter it was up to her to make sure joker's like that didn't have a long shelf life.

After a few moments of taking in her surroundings did Nia flip the engine off, pocket her keys and nudge the squeaky driver's side door open. Causally she strolled around the truck, coming to stop near the tailgate. In the same causal nature she unhinged the gate and swung open a hidden cache connected to the bumper, a fine piece of work a friend fixed her up with. It was small, but big enough to fit the necessary tools of the trade. She didn't need much tonight, just old Bertha and her Bowie knife should do. She whistled idly as the knife was slid into the back of her gray jeans, nestled and hidden at the small of her back. Bertha wasn't so easy to conceal, those her loose green jacket helped enough. Most people wouldn't be look for that anyway, not when Nia walked in the room. Standing five foot nine inches tall, Nia had an athletic, toned body of someone in constant movement. Her muscles were lean and compact, that much was evident from her bared mid-drift, the muscle definition near perfect. The rest of her wasn't too shabby either, she had a pretty face, with short platinum hair and large copper brown eyes. She had that rough and tumble look to her, little makeup and a lot of attitude. Her skin was naturally tanned, a soft mocha hue that was a stark contrast to her hair. With each step those rather ample breasts jiggled in their tight confines of the white tanktop. Despite the lifestyle Nia was pretty well stacked. Sleek hips held a slight sway to them as she walked, her baggy jeans swishing about her toned legs, heavy boots crunching the gravel of the parking lot.

The electronic beep resounded from the front entrance as she emerged into the brightly lit showroom. The scent was welcoming, gun oil, leather and metal, if only they could package that up in a bottle Nia would buy that crap in bulk. She entered just in time to hear the argument at the counter, it seemed her friend had run into some trouble and was getting the short end of the stick. She was thankful for the little things sometimes, surprise would be on her side and if she was lucky she wouldn't have to waste him in front of random bystanders. Confidently she strolled towards the counter, brandishing Bertha and giving it a purposeful pump, the undeniable sound ringing over the two men's voices.

“Hey there fellah. I think I got a few shells I can spare,” She said in a husky, easy tone. A hint of a smirk was already tugging at her lips as she came upon the man...holy shit what a man. The dude towered over her, which made no sense. Now she didn't know the guy's name at all, but had a general description of him and this wild-eyed giant didn't fit it one bit.

“Uh...you own that junker out there?” Nia asked with a nod towards the parking lot, still causally drawing down on him a few feet away. “I think me and you should have a talk...”

 

[Obuzeti]

Joachim's head swivels on his neck without moving his body in an awful, birdlike motion, those wide, smiling eyes staring right through her - and then blinking as he actually sees her, because goddamn.

He blinks, takes a half-second to glance at himself. Beat-up, raggedy-ass clothing, giant bloodstain on the back beneath the jacket, two day shadow. Standing over some random shopkeep about to kill him. He glances over at the woman again, attempting to not look at her tits, god don't stare right now, please. Pertinent details? Shotgun.

Ah, so that was what that noise had been. She'd racked it. That says an awful lot about his situational awareness right now, mostly that it's bad and that the situation is awful too.

Welp.

"Nope," Joachim answers honestly, compelled by shotgun and Babe Law. "Just hauling it around for a friend that's had a . . . . eh-heh, a really bad day. He's a little out of sorts right now."

Turning around and ignoring the store owner, who after all has neither loaded weapon nor a navel-gap over a perfectly hard stomach, he places his palms flat against the counter behind him, the odd position making cords of muscle on his pale forearms stand out - his skin, in comparison to hers, is a perfect white without a hint of tan. That just makes the scar tissue stand out more, though, and there's a lot of it, rippling over long fingers and broad hands. His dress shirt is unfolded and pretty creased, but a little delicious triangle of collarbone is visible through the unbuttoned top, along with a faint curve of pectoral.

"How much of this conversation do you think I can get through without being shot?" he says idly, eying the weapon with exasperation. He hopes it's birdshot. Birdshot's not fun, but he can survive it. "I don't have a good record with not being shot. I'd really like the chance to change that."

What's he got on him that's useful?

Well, he's still got the fork in his pocket. Moderately crusty, now.

He'll stick to being polite. Besides, it'd be a shame to stab this level of babe.

 

[NDIaC]

“A friend, huh?” Nia retorted easily, her coppery gaze drifting over the ragged man at the counter. He was a weird one, tall and built thick. Maybe if he cleaned up some he’d be passable, it was hard to gauge his attractiveness at the moment especially when Nia was a finger twitch away from smearing his guts all over the glass counter behind him. Something inside her, call it a gut feeling, told her that this wasn’t the guy she was looking for. Sure he had a weird vibe around him, but he didn’t exactly smell of brimstone either. His demeanor felt pretty nature, actually, the calmness in front of a shotgun leveled at his face didn’t stem from overconfidence in his own abilities. Nia let her gaze drift over him slowly, an appraising little look as she eyed what she could make out. Not half bad really.

“Depends on how twitchy my finger gets and how much you move around,” Nia offered with the same brutal honestly that he had offered. She was clearly thinking, putting the few things together that she had already managed to glean from him and the situation.

“Why don’t we go check on yer friend then? I’d really like to chat him up too,” Nia concluded, her finger tightening on the trigger as she lifted the barrel towards Joachim’s face before gesturing towards the door. “Nice and slow and we can break your record, maybe. I don’t like blastin’ off innocent people’s faces...specially one’s that ain’t half bad. But…” she let the word hang in the air as she took a step back and gave him room to maneuver about towards the door while keeping out of his reach.

 

[Obuzeti]

"That's fair, though you're probably going to have some trouble chatting up our mutual acquaintance," Joachim agrees, and pauses for a moment as he turns a gimlet eye back onto the owner he'd been arguing with. The older man tenses as the Hunter leans in, but blinks as he lets loose: "And fuck you, by the way. Your store sucks, your selection is crap, and you dress like a mook out of Buffy's."

Class act delivered, the itinerant Hunter straightens back up and moseys on out the door before the owner can reply, ignoring the shotgun pointed at his back.

Once outside, Joachim sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I really hope that wasn't the only gun store in this area or I'm kind of fucked. Anyways, come on, I've got the dude you wanted. He's not in mint condition though, hope you don't mind that."

He ambles over to the beat-up Camino he'd driven to the shop, named Guns for Liberty now that he looks at it (raising the chances that he was in Texas by at least three hundred percent), pops the trunk through the open window, and then leads Shotgun Girl over to it.

Welp, time to figure out if they're friends or not. His intuition said not, but you could never be sure how people reacted to dead bodies.

"Here you go," Joachim says with a shrug, swinging the trunk open. Perp A was in there in a heap, his already-cooled body staring sightlessly into a can of brake fluid with his one good eye. The other he'd driven a fork through, so it wasn't doing the cosmetic angle any favors. The body was also down to its skivvies, as Joachim had appropriated most of his clothing for the Naked Hunters Benefit Fund.

There's a beat as Joachim tries to decide on whether or not he's about to get shot, decides what the hell, and goes with his default response to awkward shit: bad humor. "As you can see, I am obviously innocent as hell," he states, voice firm, face straight.

Shit, he'd only get to say a line like that once anyways, might as well.

 

[NDIaC]

Nia almost cracked at that ridiculous outburst directed at the owner of the gun shop. Her lips twitched ever so lightly and her slender brows furrowed, trying her best to keep a straight face when all she wanted to do was laugh at the poor guy’s expression. It was pretty priceless. Instead she just gave the poor guy a shrug, reached into her jacket pocket and fished out a crinkled twenty dollar bill and slapped it on the countertop.

“Let’s keep this little gathering between us, alright?” Nia gave the man a look that kept the old man in his place. He was going to need a stiff drink after tonight. She followed after the other hunter a few steps behind him, still just out of his reach, the sawed off leveled easily at his back.

“Well I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, sugar tits,” Nia began as the electronic beep resounded about them and the shuttered door slammed closed behind her. The lights quickly flicked off and silence reigned within the store. “You might want to brush up on your people skills.” She added needlessly as they approached the car that had seen better days. Her gaze narrowed as he rounded about the car and popped the trunk, the shotgun raised just a little bit more, just in case.

The stench hit her before she even saw the corpse packed into the small space. She knew that smell all too keenly, so much so that it didn’t even turn her stomach anymore to take a big whiff of it.

“Well shit,” She commented dryly, her coppery gaze drifting over the corpse that had been dead for some time now. He matched the description she had of her suspect, even in his current state there was no way anyone could mistake the two men for one another. As she stood there having a small inner debate, Joachim reinforced the idea that he was innocent, probably in the most offensive and crude way possible. Nia twisted up her lips and let the shotgun fall briefly before she hoisted it up and let it rest upon her shoulder.

“Well slap my ass and call me Betty. You did my job for me.” She sighed, seemingly more distressed that she wasn’t going to be shooting anyone. Nia moved in closer, tugging at the rigid corpse with her free hand as she looked over his handiwork. She let out a low, impressed whistle as she examined the gruesome gash that use to be the man’s eyesocket.
“You may be a lot of things, but innocent ain’t one of them. What the hell did you stab him with? A spoon?” Nia sighed again and slammed the trunk closed. Her gaze turned to Joachim and she finally gave him a serious look from head to toe. It dawned on her pretty quickly that no country bumpkin could get the drop and take on her prey as easily as this guy did. No, he had some training and the look in his eye was one that Nia was all too familiar with.

“So…tell me exactly how he ended up in the trunk and you are standin’ here in his shit covered pants?” Nia cocked her hip and let it rest against the side of the car, her gaze leveling out on his face as she awaited an answer.

 

[Obuzeti]

"I make it a practice to not fondle women with bigger guns than I've got," Joachim stated, voice dry. "People skills, fuck that noise, I got survival instincts. Praise the motherfucking sun."

Now reasonably certain he wasn't going to face chest disintegration, he seated himelf on the opened rim of the trunk, popping his neck out of habit. It crunched nastily, reminding him of exactly how tense the last - four hours? - had been, as he got ready to tell his story. "Let me set up the scene, okay? It's easier this way."

~*~

"So this motherfucker here, Señor Fishballs - we'll get to that in a moment - has a magical doodad called Unaussprechlichen Kulten, some fucking magic book that lets him call horrors from beyond the whatever. He needs a ritual and a sacrifice to do this shit. So he sets up the ritual on this haunted lodge about forty miles up the way called the Devil's Backbone, and binds the local spirits into jiang-shi that he sets loose to collect said sacrifice. He gets four people over three nights before I'm called in to investigate."

"I dunno if you've tangled with jiang-shi before but they are nasty motherfuckers, got very specific vulnerabilities like peach wood or black dog blood, and regenerate everything else. I dumped one in a well and blew it the fuck up, but he had six of these things so I got fucked. Woke up naked in some nasty-ass blood circle stuff with the other civvies, who're all scared as fuck. We're all trussed up on a big fucking table like a banquet, and Fishballs is in some fucking toga thing, did not look human anymore. There was a skin on the ground nearby with old clothes, I think he just molted or some shit into his FINAL FORM."

"As a side note, I call him Fishballs because he was shit at tying togas, and he totally had webbing on his sack, like duck webbing. I'm not sure what to think about that."

"So he does his ritual thing and a monster came out and they frothed at each other for a bit, but I dunno what they were saying because I rolled over onto one of the silverware sets and cut myself loose on the knife. Then I tried to stab him with it while he was talking with Fishball God, but I was a little woozy and got the fork instead when I reached. I mean it still worked, but it was all goopy. Ew."

"Fishball God is super pissed but I smudged his circle and he vanished. I stole Fishball's clothes and dropped the others off at what one of 'em said was their house, but I dunno, I'm fucking tired. I came here to get guns, beer, and sleep in that order, and then I'm gonna go skullfuck the rest of the jiang-shi and whatever else Fishballs had stocked up in his lair."

~*~

Joachim exhales after the long-ass story, looking a lot like he needs a cigarette.

"Any questions, class?" he asks, sardonic.

 

[NDIaC]

Nia silently rolled her eyes for just a moment, her lips twitching slightly as they resisted the smirk that wanted to tug out over them. Instead of adding to his comment, she simply stood there leaning against the car, awaiting his story. From the body in the trunk and his performance so far, it was bound to be a doozy.

----

She had been right, it was one hell of a tale, packed full of kinds of shit no one in their right mind could even begin to make up. If it hadn't been obvious from the look in his eyes and his causal attitude when having a shotgun leveled at his face, his tale confirmed that he had been a hunter for awhile. At least, as long as a hunter could be considered 'veteran'. They never did have very long shelf lives. The mention of some kind of fish god and Jiang-shi peaked her interest though. Seemed her prey had been a real naughty little son of a bitch. It almost seemed unfair that he met his eye the way he did, he deserved far worse than a fork to the eye.

It seemed to take ages for him to finish, by the end of it Nia was getting antsy, shuffling a bit over the gravel and switching with hand cradled Bertha. Her finger had left the trigger awhile back, her instinct had told her this guy wasn't going to be dangerous, at least to her. Other people though, well, from his explosion on the poor store owner she wasn't rightly sure if he wasn't unhinged. Still, unhinged could be fun, and useful in their profession. Nia gave him a good hard look after he finished his story, his need for something to take the edge off reflected on her own face.

“Well then.” She said matter-of-factly, pushed her hip off the car and slowly circled about to his other side. “Let's go then?”

She gave him a look as she took one step backwards and started to turn around. “I know a place not far we can take care of Fishballs there. Then we can work on stockin' up some ammo and brewskies, in that order. As for sleep...well...no rest for the wicked, right?” She laughed, a throaty guffaw as she sauntered her way back over to her truck and hoped inside. The engine roared to life and the thick tires crunched over gravel as she pulled up near the beat up old Camino. She wore a wide smile on her lips as she reappeared, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. “This should be fun. I don't team up much with other Hunters. Yer not one of those one man wolf packs, are yah? With as many jiang-shi as you said were out there, it might pay to play nice with others for a bit.”

Her left hand snapped out through the open window, tossing him an crumbled pack of Pall Malls and a Bic lighter. “Don't lose my lighter.” She said with all seriousness, the first time since she leveled the gun on him that she had that professional look about her.

 

[Obuzeti]

A smile cracks up one side of the other Hunter's face like a faultline, revealing a glimmer of too-white tooth before he cuts it off by turning his head and chuffing with amusement. "Sure, Bosslady," he says, bouncing off the side of the Camino with a pop of sharply-defined hips, "Take me to your lair, so that we may plot deviously. I'm willing to substitute violence for sleep at least a little while longer."

The smile changes Joachim's face, though it's a half-assed thing to be called that. He's one of those assholes that never has a full expression, choking it off into wry twists and bad jokes instead, eyes a deviant, glimmering flicker over chapped lips. His improving mood instead reflects itself in motion - his walk changes from a no-shits-given trudge into a swaying, erratic amble that looks more drunk than anything as he wanders to his own driver's side. It's a heavy contrast to the murderous stillness he'd been sporting earlier, as well.

"Chere, I play just fine with others, they just don't have much to do when I'm on the job," he assures his apparently-new teammate. "I'm not here to make anybody feel inferior, they do that just fine on their own."

He hops into his car, and twists his stolen keys, gunning the engine - though it doesn't have half the satisfying roar as her Ford, one cig already lit and clamped between his lips as he raises an eyebrow at her. When she peels off towards her destination, he follows without hesitation.

It won't be boring at least. Also, it wouldn't be the first time he'd followed a lady home without even knowing her name, though this time at least guns were guaranteed to get involved.

 

[NDIaC]

Nia just laughed at him as she sped off into the night. With her arm curled over the doorframe she traveled east along the small two lane road. She didn't bother to slow down, though she wasn't exactly speeding either, but with an occasional glance into the rearview mirror she saw he was able to hold his own even in that beat up piece of junk. It wasn't long before they came to a small motel near the edge of town, the flickering neon signs still reading vacancies and free wifi. Nia pulled her truck into an empty parking space near the end, letting the engine idle while she waited for him to catch up. Once they were all properly parked she exited the cab, her hips swaying slightly with the exaggerated slow gait as he approached her. She flashed an easy going smirk, those coppery eyes flickering over him once more in an appraising fashion.

“So I didn't bother to catch yer name. Down right rude of me, but yah know.” She rolled her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug before she reached up and unlatched the tailgate. With a few swift tugs her secret little compartment opened up and shimmered with a golden light. Alright, not really shimmered, but it was packed full of so many goodies it would make any Hunter salivate at the sight.

“So what's yer poison? Or did yah wanna take a shower and get that fishball smell off yah?” Nia slowed down for a moment, taking a glance towards the nearby motel room door that was obviously the one she had. “There's probably still some hot water. I can snag a six-pack or two and we can butt heads on this jiang-shi shit.”

Nia paused to laugh at her own comment, it had sounded better in her head, but it had already pasted her lips so it didn't really matter at this point if he found it entertaining. She amused herself, that's all that really mattered in the end. Nia turned fully to face him, her hands resting upon her hips and that intense gaze found his own once more. The smell of cigarette smoke hung between them, along with the general musk of exerting ones self. It wasn't half bad, from what she could smell, at least underneath the stench of blood and only god knew what else was staining his clothes.

 

[Obuzeti]

Popping his engine off and rolling out of his car like an escape pod, Joachim takes in the sight of his partner with a pleased sigh, eyes lingering on those swiveling hips she was so kindly putting on display for him. He had gotten a look in when she was walking away - she had a fantastic ass. Wasn't shy either, and that accent made him salivate, all Southern belle with a hint of sass.

"Well, if we're doing introductions, then," Joachim replies with a wry smile, offering the woman a firm handshake as he came up beside her, "This one is called Joachim Melvin Sauville, and he's glad to be back in the States if you're the caliber of woman he gets to deal with."

He'd keep flirting, but guns. His eyes shot to them, and his fingers twitched. All he had at the moment was the sawed-off 12-gauge he'd snatched from the guard Fishballs had stationed at the perimeter of the property, and God knows those weren't reliable.

He scooped up a S&W M&P45, a heavy little pistol that fired beefy .45 ACP rounds first, reflexively checked safety and magazine first even though both were safe (basic training never turned off), and bit his lip as he looked through the rest, eyes lingering on an honest-to-God ASh-12.7. He points at it. "I want that one, but I'm not going to touch it until I can shoot something with it. I'm good for now," he says firmly, then pockets the pistol as he turns to face his partner.

This close, she smells like peat whiskey and oiled leather, no flowery perfume. A faint glimmer of sweat limned the fringe of that hard belly, and Joachim had to physically restrain himself from touching the bare skin there. Instead, he smiles loosely, eyes lidded, and bumps his hip against Nia's. "Inside," he directs, sliding past her, brushing lightly. It was flirtatious and juvenile and he catches a giggle and chokes it into a rolling chuckle. "I smell like dead zombie. I want to shoot them, not live among them and learn their ways. This ain't Dances With Wolves."

He shoots a smoky glance over his shoulder and waggles a black eyebrow, doing his own hip sway back at her as he takes the lead. It doesn't hurt that the slacks aren't exactly slack, as they're not his size.

 

[NDIaC]

Nia met Joachim face to face as he introduced himself. She took his hand, returning the firm handshake as any self respecting person would do. She offered a nod of recognition as he pronounced his full name, only to add the bit about her. Those plush lips drifted into a wide little grin for a brief moment as she squeezed his hand before letting it go, a low riding chuckle soon following the gesture.

“Well, well, Joachim. It's a pleasure ta meet cha. Name's Nia Rae Dayne. You can call me Nia, or Rae, but never call me Ma'am. Save that respect for the elderly now.” She retorted in kind, the name rolling off her tongue with that subtle country twang. It was always hard to take the country out of the girl, after all. “I'm 'fraid I'm one of a kind, Sugar.” She added, a teasing little flirt if there ever was one. But their attention soon turned back to the small arsenal she had displayed moments before. She saw that look cross his face and couldn't help but grin again. She imagined a similar tug at her lips and eyes when her gaze traveled over the plethora of stashed weapons. After a few moments he selected one, checking it out almost instinctively till his gaze found another thing of interest. Nia followed his gaze and gave a soft chortle.

“Hmm. You got some good taste there, Joachim.” She repeated his name, putting some emphasis on it as her coppery gaze found his own. They lingered there for a moment, looking over one another, the way he just ravished her with his eyes...well...Nia was only human and sure she got a lot of attention, but rarely was it the kind that she reciprocated. Joachim though, well, he was certainly her kind of crazy. Her hand slid out, though it only moved to brush over the edge of the truck's hidden compartment and retrieve a gun for herself, a black Desert Eagle .44 Magnum. She checked it out briefly before slipping it into the waistband of her pants, at the small of her back. She retrieved the knife she had stashed there, holding it by the leather sheath and brought it before them. She tapped his chest with the butt end of the handle, her response to his oh so flirty hip check. The contact had happened regardless, the subtle furrowing of her brows, dialation of her pupils and the smug little smirk that replaced her grin all clear indications of just what was going on inside her head.

“Well then...Mr. Cuddles with Fishballs. Let's get you cleaned up,” Nia bit her bottom lip, the only way she refrained from finishing the thought that crossed her mind. It was her turn to take in the way he walked, giving a marvel at the rather nice ass he had himself. Funny how things came full circle sometime. Nia closed up the compartment, latched the tailgate and followed after Joachim with that smirk still on her lips. She caught up to him, only to pass him by as she approached the door to the motel room and fished a key from her pocket. The door swung open and they entered into a room straight out of the 60's. The entire décor was at least 50 years old at best, it was hard to tell if the sheets weren't original either. A dufflebag sat on the bed, along with a few other articles of clothing and a laptop sat half closed on the small coffee table. Nia tossed the key on the table and sauntered in, only to turn back to face her new friend. She offered a slow nibble to her bottom lip and an idle gesture over her shoulder. “Shower's back there...” She needlessly commented, filling in the silence that their obvious sexual tension had created.

 

[Obuzeti]

God, she looked kissable, chewing on her bottom lip like that. His engine was revving, but honestly he probably didn't have both a marathon fucking and a monster slaughter left in him tonight, and the thought brought a regretful twinge to his smile. She was lighting all the signals, and he was willing to bet she'd be a fantastic lay.

Something to keep in mind for tomorrow.

"Showertime, babe," he says, stepping closer for a moment until only an inch seperated them, and let the silence drag out - appreciating that vibration in the air between their bodies, like static and heat, magnetizing skin and causing goosebumps across his forearms. He breathed it in, a faint smile crossing his face, and then stepped past Nia, his hand rising to trail callused fingers over her arm and, incidentally, the bare swathe of her belly exposed by that shirt. "Stay frosty, I'll be right out and then we can take care of business."

A little devil tinges his grin and he doffs his shirt before closing the bathroom door - like the rest of him, lean and thin and whipcord, an archer's and runner's build, studded with the trophies any hunter gathers in the business: scars, in this case a pair of bullet puckers low on his back and one long arch that cleaved up the right side near the rippled obliques and crossed his shoulderblade atop. More obvious are the bruises; he hadn't been joking about losing that fight, because he was purple and yellow across most of his ribs and one particular bloom splotched across his entire chest, like he'd been hit by a car. But he's a hunter, and this shit is stock in trade.

He showers quickly, no more than a couple minutes, enough to rinse the slime and blood off his clothes, and then, lacking other options, throws the dress clothes back on and exits the bathroom, scrubbing his head with a towel to get the last of the droplets. He already looks better, with what had to be a week of dust sloughed off, and his eyes are sharper and more aware. The shirt is white and the residual dampness makes it cling to his chest a little, and now he smells less like an abbatoir and more like a human being.

"Goddamn, I needed that," he says, popping his neck contentedly. "Tell me you didn't move on, honey, please take me back." He laughs, wicked and low, eyes seeking hers.

 

[NDIaC]

It spoke volumes that either one could find sexual attraction at a time like this. Most people would be put off by the smell of death and...fish, as well as the blood and gore that stained his clothing, but for Nia it was just part of the lifestyle. With a job like this it was hard to find quality time for things that most people took for granted. So when a looker came about that wasn't something that wanted to suck your blood, steal your soul or eat your internal organs in alphabetical order, well, you just had to seize the day sometimes. Usually that was after a job was done, or in-between. According to Joachim's tale there was a long of trash to pick up, which was especially dangerous considering it was Texas and all. Who knew what idiot was going to stumble on that and think they could handle on their own.

There was a moment shared though, a brief little contact that made those coppery eyes narrow and that pretty face take on a serious look. If looks could kill, or at least say 'I want to fuck your brains out for eight straight hours', that was probably the one she wore at the moment. Still, duty came first, it was just sloppy work otherwise.

“Right,” Nia retorted, watching him go for a moment or two before she turned and stalked off towards the front of the room. She had been here for a couple of days so she had stocked up a bit on supplies while she had the chance. The mini-fridge near the TV had been packed full of longnecks and the plastic bag on the table had enough jerky and salted nuts to sustain a few people for a couple of days. Nia retrieved a bottle and used the edge of the table to pop off the cap before she settled down and hoisted her laptop onto her knees. She leaned back in the chair, lifting the front legs into the air as she drank and typed, both one handed, the drinking faired better than her typing skills. It was easy enough to take her mind off things, Nia had a strong will and focusing on a job always helped. She searched the Internet for mentions of jiang-shi, just anything that might help them out a bit. She hadn't had much experience with them personally and never liked to walk into a fight without studying her adversaries. So that's what she did.

Her beer was mostly gone by the time he emerged from the bathroom, steam following him and his wet shirt clinging to his well-defined muscles. Nia looked up, did a double take if only to ogle him a bit as he approached. Her easy going smirk returned as she popped a few peanuts into her mouth and chewed on them thoughtfully.

“Hmm. Well if I can be the judge of the wet T-shirt contest, then I think I can take yah back in,” She teased before slamming all four legs of her chair back down onto the floor. Her bosom jiggled temptingly with that sudden movement, the silvery chain about her slender neck catching the dim light briefly. The laptop was set upon the table and pushed back a bit as she causally snacked some more.

“So...you got more of a plan than just running in guns blazing?” She asked, still chewing as she peered up at him, those coppery eyes meeting his easily. That simmering hunger from before seemed vacant as she talked shop. Hm, her moods came and went pretty quick didn't they?

 

[Obuzeti]

"I never run at the things I'm trying to shoot," Joachim quips, taking a knee besides Nia. He's tall enough that his head's still even with hers despite the fact she's sitting in a chair. His bare arm brushes against hers, still damp from the shower, as he taps in a search on the keyboard. "It's bad fire discipline. I shoot them full of holes from a safe distance first."

The humor fades, then, as he shifts into a slightly more military demeanor. "There's a lot of shit info about jiang-shi out there, but the real deal is much more dangerous. They're stiff and move in bursts, but like a fucking wolf spider, they'll cross a room faster than you or I could run it. They can't see or hear, but they've got bloodhound noses and can feel breathing, so it's basically impossible to hide from them. Stink pellets probably fuck them up, along with anything else that has an overpowering stench - I burnt one by accident and the rest completely fucked off for like, two-three minutes."

He clicks onto a folk picture of a jiang-shi, and points at the one detail common to all of them: the thick, dagger-like nails. "Those claws are real too, and if you have anything stronger than leather I'd wear it - I saw one go through a steel meat locker door in about four minutes flat. Which reminds me! They hate cold. That motherfucker shivered like a lady's battery-powered best friend."

He pulls up a Google map and points at the cabin in question - previously host to a haunted house location, it was now closed to the public. "What I'm figuring is, we take a quart of bleach or something strong like that, drive to about a quarter-mile out from the perp. Then we walk the rest of the way, and when we're close break the bleach open. The zombies will smell it, definitely, but it'll cover our scent too. They'll investigate, and you and I will set up a firing lane up the closest hill and hit them when they come out."

Joachim cracks his knuckles, looking pensive. "If you've got some fishing wire or tow cable I could set some triplines to catch them up. Nothing to attach them to, but slowing them down is worthwhile enough. Sound good?"

His barking cadence and take-command attitude was definitely military.

 

[NDIaC]

Nia kicked back a bit as he approached, easily squatting beside her and just about coming even with her in that position. She folded her arms over her chest and let him type away on the laptop, her coppery gaze lingering upon the screen and her lips giving a slight twitch at him comment. She didn't say much, not as he started with the serious discussion. His entire attitude changed, which wasn't too surprising, if he was that much of a goof all the time no doubt something would have twisted his head off by now. It wasn't an easy life and levity from the intense life and death situations was nice once and awhile. But it was all business from here. She offered a nod or two as he explained the basic abilities of the creatures, her mind already churning over the information and integrating it into several situations and plans.

She shifted and let the front legs of her chair finally fall forward, hitting the ground with a heavy dull thud. Her arms unfolded and one hand reached out for her beer, only to lift it up and drain it in a slow manner. Once he had finished she opened her mouth, took a breath and let out a deliberate belch from deep down. Her face screwed up and she cocked her head to the side as if she were contemplating something before she finally offered a firm nod.

“I should have some fishin' wire somewhere, I think.” She finally said, pushing up to her feet in a fluid motion. “So fillin' full of lead will work?” She stepped around him and hefted her gun from the table and slid it back into her belt as she adjusted her the collar of her jacket. Those coppery eyes were all over him still, though they seemed more probing than lusting. There was a time and a place for everything.

“So where'd you serve?” She asked causally, setting about preparing. It wasn't uncommon for most Hunters to come from a military background. Nia herself had some experience but was far from a veteran. Her hands slid into her back pockets as she stood there with her gaze calmly leveled on him as if they hadn't talked about killing crazy fast undead creatures.

 

[Obuzeti]

3e Régiment étranger d'infanterie, Foreign Legion," Joachim replies, cheerful. "Legio patre nostre, hut! Great outfit, very revitalizing. Got shot a lot though, so, mixed bag."

Habitually checking his pistol again, he glances up and winks at Nia, his good mood burgeoning out into something closer to bombast. "Yeah, bullets will work. Use big ones, they ain't gonna care about varmint shot. Plug them in the legs first if you can, restrict their mobility, then blow off the heads. They're still zombies, they won't stop until you remove the head."

Joachim stretches a little, popping bones in what is surely an awkward fashion, grimacing as joints shake out into something approaching good health. "I'll play forward, they know my scent and might not pick you up at first. Pick off whatever you can. I mean, shit, this isn't your first rodeo, you know what to do."

He claps Nia on the shoulder like a buddy, pauses, and then notes, "Women who could kick my ass have always been my thing, so pop some heads, yeah?"

His grin is dangerous and fleeting, and he turns to the door, geared and gunned up. "Allonsy, lady, let's kill some mooks. Also find out what the fuck that Cthulu ripoff was. I want that on the next episode of Ancient Aliens, pronto."

 

[NDIaC]

“Foreign Legion, huh? Sounds...Frenchy.” Nia commented. She didn't know much about it besides the name, the military was the military and it was good enough for her. Nia wasn't a soldier, but she certainly did receive some training from a few Vets, but that was a story for another time. She pushed up from her chair and set about grabbing her gear. With gun in tow she made her way towards the door and slammed it closed behind her. Once it was locked she reached into her jacket pocket and fished out the keys to her truck. Causally she tossed them at him as she strode towards the truck and to the passenger side.

“Well, Mr. Clouseau. It's yer lucky day. You know the way so why don't you drive?” Nia flashed a smirk and a wink as she rounded about the cab. “Just give her the respect she deserves and she'll treat you right. Otherwise you just might get yer ass kicked earlier than expected.”

Nia slung herself into the passenger seat and already had a cigarette between her lips before he could start the engine. The pack was offered to him again as they took off towards their destination, the breeze from the motion a welcome respite from the hot and humid Texas night.

“You must watch a lot of TV on yer time off,” She commented as they drove, making idle conversation to lighten the mood. Not that it was exceptionally heavy at the moment, he seemed more amenable now than ever with the promise of putting a few dozen rounds through those unholy corpses.

 

[Obuzeti]

"Frenchy it is," Joachim comments, smirking idly as he starts the engine and pulls out onto the main drag, heading for the interstate. "And yeah, what else is there to do in shitty hotels two hundred miles from home? Crappy television is my lifestyle at this point. Just nothing reality though. Can't stand that - hang on. Move out of the way, asshole!"

He jams on the horn, blaring at the stopped Camino in front of him, which sits perfectly still in front of a green light. Joachim cranes his head to see what's got it stopped, and manages to glimpse a trembling, elongated arm around the side, rot-white and stiff.

It takes him a second to process, and then he bellows, "Fuck!" and jams on the reverse, hauling the truck back into the turn lane with a squeal of rubber. It's just in time, too, as something hits the Camino in front of them like a cannonball and sends it screeching into the car that had been behind them, setting off airbags and engine steam.

Where it had been, there's a pale white figure, limbs eerily long and spasming in minute jerks like a man on the electric chair. Clothed in overalls that'd been in fashion a century ago, the ghastly pale face turns to look at them with blown-out pupils, begins to pivot, and takes two rounds square to the nose as Joachim rips his sidearm from its holster and pegs the jiang-shi with a clean double-tap. Both shots blast chunks out of its head, and it shivers violently, then crouches as swift as a jaguar.

Joachim stops on the gas, driving full on reverse in the turn lane, as the zombie careens barely an inch by them in front of the car, and buries itself a foot deep in a van on the other side of the road, throwing it on its side and catapulting it into the far end ditch.

Wet meat slaps the asphalt like an air strike, and two more jiang-shi pelt down from so far above they should have splattered instantly on impact, and the road fractures beneath the force, but improbably they already rise, eyes fixed on the backpedaling truck.

"Shoot, shoot now!" Joachim shouts, and takes a shot at the newcomers, which misses horrendously and chips off a traffic sign instead.

 

[NDIaC]

“You ever heard of a thing called reading a book?” Nia shot back easily enough, letting out a little snort of laughter before she exhaled a cloud of smoke out the opened window. It was all going simple and easy so far, they barely got moving at all before things went to shit all too quickly. She didn't catch it at first, but from her spot in the passenger seat she couldn't really see anything from that angle anyway.

“Whoa! Hey!” She growled as they lurched about in the cabin, her first instincts going to the protection of her truck. That was until the Camino in front of them exploded and sprayed shrapnel and glass everywhere, taking another another car in the process.

“What the holy shit fuck-” Nia started, though her coppery gaze all too quickly fell upon the gangly white figure up ahead. She grit her teeth and grunted, her hand instinctively going to her back. “Looks like your friends caught up!”

She held on tight as the truck started to going backwards, shots fired and that thing...correction...those things started coming in like nothing she had ever seen. It was her first time to see a jiang-shi in action, she was both impressed and revolted at the sight, but the one thing Nia Rae Dayne wasn't was scared. If anything she felt the sudden rush of adrenaline as Joachim took a few more pot shots at the newcomers. Nia already had her gun in hand as Joachim cried out. Quickly Nia leaned out the window, jamming her hip against the door as she took aim and unleashed a thunderous barrage of lead. Her first few shots were true, hitting one of the recent additions between its whacked out eyes, making it twitch and jerk much like Joachim had done before. The rest bounced off asphalt and car panels as the things started in, moving in that jerky, almost random movements at tremendous speeds. Thankfully they were still going backwards, Nia collapsed back into her seat as she took a few more shots out the window for good measure.

“These bastards really got a hard on for you,” Nia scoffed before she started to dig around under the seat for something. “Gimme a sec.” She muttered, grunting as she doubled over herself. It took her a few seconds, which was a lifetime when things like that were running at you. She finally flung herself back with a yellow bottle of motor oil in her hand and a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol. She stuck the motor oil bottle between her thighs, clamping down on it as she twisted off the caps and started to pour the alcohol into the container.

“I know you said they don't like the cold...but how 'bout we light these fuckers up anyway?” Nia called out, already reaching into her glove compartment to fish out one of the handkerchiefs she had stuffed in there.

“Not sure how effective it'll be...but points for effort, right?” She said with a smirk, dousing the remaining alcohol over the handkerchief before she started to stuff it into the motor oil bottle.

 

[Obuzeti]

Joachim glances at the Molotov, Nia, and the jiang-shi all in quick succession, and makes a judgement call. "Go for it," he says, braking to a halt and rolling out of the driver's side door all in one smooth motion. "I'll keep 'em off us, we won't be able to drive off in this traffic!"

He also doesn't want the truck trashed - or to be trapped in a vehicle when one of those freaks come from him. He'd be surprised if anyone in the Camino had survived that impact.

The ex-soldier rips off another neat double-tap through the sternum of the nearer jiang-shi, improbably wearing a pilgrim's hat on its withered, skeletal frame; it shudders through the impacts, then lurches forward in two swaying, ground-eating strides that run Joachim down. It impacts with his chest - bowls him over - and then abruptly is swung over as he manages to get a shoulder under it and segue into a rolling hip throw. It thuds into the pavement with a snarl, but with no breath to knock out of it, the creature can't be stunned, and responds by opening Joachim from navel to shoulder with a slicing, crooked-nails slash.

In response, the towering man howls a war cry, plants one boot on the zombie's chest, stabs his ubiquitous fork into the offending arm, and then rips back on it like a lever, tearing half of the meat from that arm and almost all the muscle as the steel tines shear through ancient flesh. The limb goes limp, and Joachim launches a brutal field goal kick to the side of the jiang-shi's head as it flails at him with the brutalized arm. Steel-toed boots make contact and crunch its cranium inward, provoking yet more flailing.

Then the other jiang-shi rips a tire off the back of a nearby Jeep and sidearms it at Joachim. The impact throws him from his feet with a whoof of exhaled air, and the tire richochets off to embed in a nearby Acura window.