Raining Bullets

[The_high_king]

Hey, I'm back. Some of you know me, some of you don't. I'd never thought I would be back here again. However, I would not like to talk about why I was away for so long. So at that note, I shall explain my new thread.

This is present day, Calabrin city, (made up of course). Crime is running rampant on the streets, and yet, it dosn't seem to exist. The mafia, gangsters, triad and other scum everywhere yet nowhere. The city, to them, is like a candy store. Except they don't pay for their candy. The whole city is riddled with bolted doors, and paranoid citizens.

In this story, I'm Forte 'The Colt man' Dodder. I'm like the guy from one of those western movies, where he rides into town with and brings justice with him. I however, ride into town in a jeep carrying a sense of justice, and a pair of colts. I'm in my middle twenties, and I have an average height of 5'5.

I will need the following characters:
Equally good gunmen/gunwomen
Mafia/Triad/Gangster leaders
Mafia/Triad/Gangster members
Good-guy cops
Bad-guy cops
Helpful, or unhelpful civilians, (by civilians, I mean the dirty ones , and the clean ones)
Goverment agents
Right-hand men (criminals of course)

There will by sex, and be sure to make a snazzy middle name for yourself. It'll add to the atmosphere.

If you are interested, then post a request.

 

[The_high_king]

Forte Dodder

ooc: Okay, back from eating dinner. I can now start the thread.

ic: I rolled the jeep into town, careful not to bump into anything with the heavy rain, and all. I just came back from the police academy in LA. I didn't make the cut. They said I lacked in skill, or some crap like that. I think is was the fact that my great-grand father was a mafia leader, and they wouldn't give me the chance prove that I was different.
I reason I came back was to tell my foster dad, that I failed. He was a great guy, took care of me when I was ten. My original parents died in a fire, and I was a dazed, and confused survivor. I remember the cops mentioning something about molotov cocktail. Thats when Jacob pithed in. Thats my foster fathers name, Jacob Dodder.

I parked the car in a garage next to his big brick house. I locked the car doors, and rang the doorbell. Thats when I realized that the door was open. I slowly walked in, "Dad! You there?" I shouted, "its me dad, I'm back". Silence. I opened up the cabinet where my dad usually put his berreta, and found out that it was missing.
Something in me, then snapped. I ran up the stairs, and pushed open the swinging bedroom door. Their was my dad. There was blood everywhere. There were five gunshot wounds in his head. Next to him was a berreta. There was no way that this was a suicide. I put a blanket over his face, and dialed 911. The phone was dead, literally. There were bullet holes all over it. The same went for all of the phones in the house.

It was then when I realized that I could never tell him that I failed the police academy. There was only one thing left to do. Revenge. Its not something a cop would do, but then again... I'm not a cop. I pulled my two colts from the closet, and left. It was time to do some, "investigating".

ooc: type something when ready people. This ain't a solo mission.

 

[The_high_king]

Ahem

ooc: Attention! I seem to be talking to myself. I repeat, I'm talking to myself. Can I hear me? Yes I can.
(I'm already going crazy from lonliness *sigh*)

 

[The_high_king]

What The!?

ooc: its been hours, and still no one shows up. Whats the problem, is the title offensive, or something, sheesh. This is not a good way to begin a thread.

For those of you that are wondering, (like any of you are), I'm trying NOT to restart old threads. I'm going to try to start again, by making about two-three threads.

 

[The_high_king]

The clue

ic: My first lead were the bullet marks. My father's head, the phones, and another one I saw on the front porch. They all seemed to form a, "::". The killers little calling card.

I drove around town until I found a spot. It was a nightclub called, 'The Dicer'. There was a flashing neon dice above the entrance door. Coincidentially, the dice was flashing, '::'. Not the best detective work, but it was a place to start.

I walked in, playing it bogart. It was as lively as a cemetary. Their were some shady characters around, and a drunken bum to add to the atmosphere. It was time a started asking questions. I walked up to the bartender as some barely audible jazz music filled my ears.

 

[mfucker]

OOC: give me a moment...i'll read up the thread...i'm sure someone will join in soon enough...

 

[mfucker]

Detective Jenna:

I left the scene of the crime. Another homicide.

Pulling the black overcoat around my slim body, I ran through the rain till I was back in my car.

"Another murder case huh," my partner scoffs. He was dragged out of bed by my phone call, and didn't look too happy about it.

"Yea, another murder case." I mumbled to myself.

 

[The_high_king]

Small talk

I sat down on a stool. It squeaked annoyingly below me. Bartender gave me a unwelcoming glare, "what'll it be?", he asked calmly. I replied, "I'll have some tea". The bartender raised an eyebrow, "tea, did I hear ya right?", I simply nodded.

While the bartender set up the kettle, I looked around again. Some new people came in, but went through the kitchen doors. Funny, they didn't look like cooks. Especially the man in the white armani suit. He had his little helpers following from behind. Something was going down backstage, and I wanted to know what.

My tea was done. I took a small sip, and it was then when I asked the wrong question at the wrong time. "Who were those guys?". The bartender paused for a second, "Their cooks". I would've laughed if my mouth wasn't full of tea. I didn't have a plan when I came here, and I doubted that I was ever going to have one. It was going to stay that way.

I finished my tea, and thanked the bartender. He smiled, "no thank, this is the first time I met a non-alcoholic in twenty years". He seemed like a nice guy, but then again... looks can be decieving. I walked toward the kitchens doors. The bartenders smile turned to a frown, and looked away, trying not to be noticed.

ooc: glad to have you on board mfucker. I was about to hang myself with, "thread".

 

[mfucker]

Jenna:

I twirled the card in my hands as David drove. It was a nightclub, a familiar one. I frequented it.

He pulled up next to the club, and started glancing out at the night sky.

"Be back fast," was all he said.

So much for the backup. I stepped out of the car, and untied my hair. Hopefully the guys wouldn't recognise me.

 

[The_high_king]

The kitchen doors

Being at the crime scene, then fleeing wouldn't tip the balance to my favour. I was probably wanted for murder right now, and the people who killed my father are probably coming after me too. I didn't have much sanity left when I realized this. I didn't have much sanity to begin with.

I pushed open the swinging kitchen doors, and strolled in. It was a regular kitchen, with a side door, and a back door. The side door was guarded by a burly bearded guy with a pump-action shotgun. I walked up to him. He glared down at me, and said, "i don't recognize you, get back to where you came from. You wouldn't want me to hurt you now, would you?". I smiled, and looked up, "I'm trying to get in. If you step out of the way now, you might live to see tomorrow". That was a bad choice of words I had. He now lifted his shotgun, and pointed it towards my head.
BANG! He was dead. I got him before he had a chance to flinch. I kicked in the side door.

There was a poker game going on. The men lifted their guns. The man in the white armani spoke, "hey, what you interupting our game here for huh? You trying to start something?". I didn't even bother smiling, "yes". My answer was cold, and short. Two men picked up their guns from the corner, and started blazing away. I lept forward, and tackled a guy off his chair. I spun around while I was still in the air, and killed the two men. These people should hire some better bodyguards. A fat man lifted up his shotgun. I turned to my side, and put a hole in his head. The poker players folded, it was over. They didn't bring their own guns cause they had faith in their bodyguards.

I stepped up to the man in the white armani, and put a gun to his head. He spoke, "you don't have the guts. Do you know who I am? If you kill me, the mafia will be on you like glue". I smiled, "thats kind of what I want". I shot his thigh, "oh shit!" He screamed. I didn't care, he could scream his lungs out if he wanted, "now tell me, who killed Jacob Dodder?". He started to sweat, "whos asking?". I smiled, and pressed my gun hard onto his forehead, "I'm Forte Dodder". He gulped, and finally gave me an answer, "Big Man. The Big Man capped your pops. I had nothin to do with this man, I swear". Pathetic, he was crying like a little kid. I took my finger off the trigger, and put my guns back in their holster. He took a deep breath. I took a took the shotgun ammo, out of the bodyguards' guns, and left. I could always use some extra shotgun ammo.

I pushed open the kitchen doors, and left through the front entrance. Just as I pushed open those doors, a very pretty lady walked in. She caught my attention, and we just looked into each others eyes for a split second. Then I closed the doors behind me, and walked towards my jeep.

ooc: hope that isn't to much

 

[The_high_king]

hmm...

ooc: thats odd, you don't have a snazzy middle name. I just noticed that now mfucker. Perhaps Detective Jennys middle name could be something she is called around the office. Like Detective 'crazy shoes', or, 'the precision lady'.

 

[poohlive]

Officer Hardass made his way past the yellow tape.
"Where in the hell is Jenna? This is her jurisdiction!"
"She ran off," someone said, interviewing the neighbors. Hardass shook his head. That would go in his report.
Stepping inside, he saw high maintenance areas already being dusted for prints. They were going over this place with a fine toothed comb.
"Anything yet?"
"Not really. Only the father and the son so far."
Hardass nodded, motioning them to keep on with their work. No breaks for this case. He was going to bust it wide open. Jenna's assignment or not, he would take up the ball.
Then he'd get that promotion.
Fuck em all, he'd get it, and laugh in their faces. First thing he'd do is fire all of them that made fun of him. It wasn't easy growing up with a last name as Hardass. Not like they cared, no one cared.
Yeah, he'd fire them all.
Hardass looked in the bedroom.
"Twenty or so bullet holes, of different sizes, made by different bullets and different guns, and yet they leave the Beretta. A half attempt to make it look like a suicide.
"Why so many bullet holes? Hey Sal!"
A pimply face rookie pops his head through the door, "Yeah boss."
"Look through the house, see if anything is stolen, missing, or out of place."
"Yeah, sure boss," he was off.
He looked at the body. Five shots in the chest. Some bled more than others. Hmmmm, that was interesting. It meant not all of the shots went off at once.
"Well, there's a how do you do. What do you make of it Johnny?"
"Sir, I think it was a hitman, or a pusher. Maybe he owed someone money, and they sent a guy out here to make him pay. Or perhaps the mafia, he had seen something, or was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I can't tell for sure."
Hardass sighed, "Get his name out on the street. See if you can find anything."
"Gotcha!"
He went to the medical examiner, who was currently smoking a cigarette on the other side of the bed.
"So?"
The man nodded at the corpse, "He's dead, if that's what you want to know."
Hardass scowled.
"Sorry, five bullets. All made by the weapon, there are bruises on his face, neck, and stomach. I'd say this guy was tortured for an hour or so before they did him."
Hardass patted the man on the back, good deal.
"We've got something over here," a police scientist was dusting off a blanket that had been put over the deceased.
"The son's prints are on them."
"Forte?"
"Yeah, on the blanket. He covered his father up after the death?"
Hardass gave a hard look at that dead face. Had the son done this? Where was he anyway?
"This is enough evidence for a warrant. I want him brought in, and questioned, don't charge him until we get his story. I don't think he did it, but things just aren't all adding up here."
The man nodded, continuing to check the body.
"I want hair, skin and blood analysis on the body as well. If it's true he had the shit kicked out of him, there might be something there."
The man continued doing his work.
Good, just good. He hoped to have this thing wrapped up by tomorrow. Tough and efficient, that's how it was supposed to be.
Shit, there'll be a load of paperwork to do. Didn't matter though, it would have to be done.
Can't just fuck the bitch and then not pay for the room, now can you?
He walked downstairs, seeing if they had found anything more.

 

[The_high_king]

Greetings

ooc: welcome poohlive. This thread was in desperate need of more people. Thanks for joining.

 

[The_high_king]

A thousand thoughts

I slammed shut the jeep door, and my head in my hands. My head was swirling with thoughts. I wasn't an emotional person, but felt like this was my fault. I had thoughts like, "why didn't I get home sooner", or "I should have been there for him". I was taught at an early age, that shit happens. This was bigger than shit, this was bullshit.

I closed my eyes for a minute. I had a flashback of this kid at school who picked on me all the time. MY father said to me, "son, hes just fooling around. If be nice to him, then maybe he'll be nice to you". My father was nice to everybody, and look where it got him. That kid stopped picking on me... but that was then. This is now.

I turned on the radio. For the first time I hated the news. The reporter was calm in his little speech, "tonight, a man by the name of Jacob Dodder was believed to be brutally murdered by his own son. His name his Forte Dodder, and the police are hot on his trail. This man is believed to be armed, and dangerous. We will have more on this later. In other news...". I pounded the radio once, then I turned it off.

Right now, I had other business to attend too. Somehow, I had to find a person known as, 'the big man'. Luckily, I stole a small card off of the man in the armani suit. It was calling card for a hotel.

Hudson hotel
453 Bayonet rd.

I knew the place well. It was just a few blocks south, in the slum district. A place where all the junkies, prostitutes, and thugs usually hung out. I turned the ignition key.

ooc: thats my last post for tonight. I'll post tomorrow, in the afternoon.

 

[mfucker]

OOC: i'm still thinking of a middle name....maybe you'll find out later...

Jenna:

I managed to get to the kitchen without anyone recognising me or drawing my gun. It was some mess. The culprit must have been a M3, judging by the spray of holes all over the place.

Searching a few of the dead men, I found nothing. Zilch. I was fuming, as the case got more and more complicated. Heads will roll for this.

"Hey, get some men over here. Looks like some shooting gallery." I muttered into my cellular phone.

A M3. I thought. I stood up suddenly. The man with the trenchcoat, the one I met when I entered. Damn.

I dashed out of the kitchen, but taking the backdoor this time. When I reached the front, there was no one in sight. I kicked my heels on the cement ground, and saw the blood trail. I looked up just in time to see a man in white hop onto a car.

"Hey you..." I was greeted by a cloud of dust instead.

I ran back to the car, and got the sleepy-head to start following that sleek limo...

 

[poohlive]

"You might want to take a look at this."
Hardass followed some rookie into a guest bedroom, looking at the nice floral pattern. Hmmm, nice decor, looked like it was straight out of a motel room from the 70's.
In the far wall, a picture frame was held open by the door of a safe. What the hell.
"It's empty," the rookie said before Hardass could even look inside. It was indeed, only a few scraps of paper left in there.
"Get this back to the lab," he said, pointing at it, "We can at least find out what kind of paper's he had, or how long they've been in here."
"Right away." He was out of sight.
Hardass went down to the fridge, looking inside. He grabbed a beer, popping it open. Coors, that hit the spot. He burped, and downed about half of the bottle.
"We've spotted Forte," someone said, walking up, "He was just shooting up some nightclub up town. The Dicer!"
He nodded, "Good. We're going there next. Who gave the call?"
"Jenna's partner. He said she went in there just after the shooting started."
He cursed. Jenna, always fucking around, no rules, no regulations. She was like a fucking tumbleweed. He was surprised she was still on the force.
"Sir!"
He looked up stairs, "In Forte's room. There's a whole arsenal of weapons, and here's something. A lot of them are missing, if he is out there on the street, he's got enough ammunition to kill a small army."
This was getting worse and worse.
"Ok, let the medical police and analysists keep working here. Everyone else close and lock up everything. We're going to some place called the Dozer.."
"Dicer."
He shot the man who corrected him a dirty look, "The Dicer. Let's get going, move it!"
In less than two minutes the team was out and heading towards the disputable nightclub.

 

[mfucker]

Jenna:

I heard sirens in the distance, and turned to see flashing lights headed towards "the Dicer". Just like the movies. The heroine finishes the job before the army arrives.

My attention returns to the limo we were chasing, and for once David did seem to be alive tonight. With every car-chasing trick out of the book, it was some ride as I held on tight.

A large bus drives across the junction, and now the limo had to stop. We got our man.

.....

After some interrogation, and coercion on the part of both my partner and myself, we manage to dig something out of the man in the white armani. It was going to turn red if he didn't get to a hospital soon enough.

"David, Hudson Hotel." He nodded, getting behind the wheel. Somehow all these were too easy. We were too hot on the trail for even my own comfort, but I wasn't going to let up now.

 

[The_high_king]

The waiting room.

I walked up to the desk clerk, and tapped him on the shoulder. He was smoking a big cigar, and said, "what'd you want? I'm a busy man". I replied, "I'm looking for the big man". The clerk seemed shocked, "their is no such person here". I smiled, "tell him my name is Forte Dodder". The man gave my a suspicious eye, "uh yeah, follow me. I'll bring you to the waitin room". I followed the man to a large room, "wait in here. I'll go get him".

I sat down on the plush couch, and looked around. Some pin-up posters, some magazines, newspapers, a fake plant, and an ash tray. Seemed like a decent waiting room. I spoke to soon. The door opened up, and three men came in. Two of them had sawed-off shotguns. One of them was slighty balder, than the other one. The other one had a desert eagle.

The one with the desert eagle spoke, "our boss is a bit busy right now. If you want to talk, then talk to us". I was busy skimming through a newspaper, "so your boss is a busy man too huh? Tell me, what kind of work does he do?". The man cocked back the hammer of his gun, "thats none of your business". Before I could say another word, the desert eagle man made the command, "cap em boys!". I smirked, and flipped behind the couch. Their shotgun shells spread, and made huge marks on the wall, but not on me. I lept forward, and time seemed to slow down. I could see the bullets whizzing by me. Before a landed again, I shot the bald man. He fell down dead from a gunshot to the head. I quickly got back up, and flew back. A bullet whizzed past my head. I fired the next several shots. Filling the remaining two men full of lead. The dead man had a nice desert eagle, I think I'll take it. I also picked up a sawed-off.

When I stepped outside, the desk clerk was shocked, and amazed, "holy shit!". He reached for his pump-action. BOOM! It took one shot from the half-sawed for him to die. I dropped the sawed-off, and proceeded upstairs. Somebody wanted to see me dead. I just wanted to see him, her, or them dead.

ooc: any rhyming was completely by accident. Oh, and poohlive, just to let you. My colts, and one 12-gauge if all I have. I pick up weapons as I go.

 

[The GrandMage]

Jimmy 'the Mute' Hoffa

Jimmy was walking down the street. He was a dangerous guy. He was wearing thermal goggles. Headphones covered his ears, leading down to a small pouch on the back of his belt. Dressed in thick boots with fatigue pants, his Hawaiian shirt screaming out loudly with its mesh of colors. He had on a blazer, and looked completely out of place-anywhere.

He wasn't that Jimmy Hoffa. He never said a word, and barely recognized people. Thus, he was given the name 'The Mute'. He wandered around town. He was a wanted man. Not by the authorites, though. It seemed every two-bit gang or big-time mob wanted his head.

He was fine with that. It saved him the trouble of looking for them. It wasn't that he was a great fighter. He lighted a cigarette, and put it in his mouth, taking a deep drag. He dropped the cigarette package, empty of his precious 'cancer-sticks' to the ground. For the fourteen years he'd been in town, from age seventeen, it had never ceased to amaze him how many people went after a guy who kept Nitroglycerin in his pockets.

He turned a corner down an alley as the car that had been following him for the past two blocks ran over the cigarette package he'd dropped. After erupting into a ball of flame, it slowly settled back to earth....upside down. He chuckled silently to himself as he climbed the old fire escape to his room. He'd set the C4 on that car nearly two hours ago, waiting for them to make their move. Instead, they'd driven right over the detonator.

He'd never understand people.

 

[The_high_king]

Second floor

I would have taken the elevator, but it was busted. The carpet on the the stairs were a welcoming red, and the banisters were old, and creaky. Its amazing that it hadn't collapsed. The wallpaper was a green haze, and cracking.

The second floor was filled with doors, and guys with guns. A prostitute was giving head in the mens washroom to a paying customer. They should really get that washroom door fixed. I walked down the hall with a calm stride. Then a fat guy came along, and had to ruin my cool.

He looked down on me, then put out his cigarette on my coat. He blew a puff of smoke in my face. I didn't even flinch. He showed me a toothy smile, "you better give your wallet there". I shook my head, and he attempted to punch me with his brass knuckles. I dodged the punch, and punched him hard in the stomach. He was now crumpled heap on the floor. Crying like a baby. His two buddies aimed their guns at me.

They were to slow. No sooner had they took out their guns, I shot one of them in the heart. I shot the other ones gut. I took their ammo, and lifted the one of them off the floor. I then said something to him that I just came to me, "click, click, bang! Tell your boss that the colt man is coming for him". Click, click, bang. I had no idea where I got that from.

I walked down the hall, and shot whoever pointed a gun at me. The room I was looking for was at the top. I stole the keys off of the dead desk clerk.

Room 436
Danny Bigman

ooc: welcome to the fray Grandmage.

 

[The_high_king]

Third floor

On the third floor, I was dodgeing bullets like rain drops. I rolled behind a pillar, and took out my 12-gauge. I lept sideways to my left. Once again, time seemed to slow down. Three guys were coming at me, their bullets missing me by an inch. I had to act bullet-fast. If I aimed correctly, the spread should hit all three of them. BANG! I fired a shell, and began to spread. It hit all three guys in the face. They were down for the count. One more guy was around the corner, reloading his sawed-off, which gave me time. I simply picked up a lamp, and smashed it over his head. Hmm... thats odd, the lamp was harder.

Another guy ran at me with his beretta. Rolled to the right side, and shot him in the groin. I then drop kicked him in the head, to put him out of his misery. Then something caught my eye. One of the gangsters had a metal baseball bat. I took it with me. I had feeling that, 'Mr. Whopper', (yes, I named the baseball bat) and I were going to be really good friends. I hid it underneath my coat.

I now approached the fourth floor.

 

[poohlive]

Ooc: You think I don't know that? The guns were planted.



Hardass grabbed a scotch and soda, walking into the back room. Hell, only midnight, and he already felt like it was too late.
"All done by the same weapon, whoever came in here, fucked them the lot of them."
He looked down, the hired gunmen he didn't recognize. New bodyguards probably, if one man got the drop on all of them, they must be new.
A face did look familiar though. He glanced down, seeing a pudgy man with a dead stare at the ceiling.
"Hey, Johnny, this guy looks familiar, who is he?"
"That looks like The Rat. He works for Big Man, gun runner or something."
"Big man?" Hardass took another sip, "The Mafia king?"
"Yeah, he's supposed to run a lot in this town."
Sighing, he glanced around the table, seeing the various chairs. The bodyguards would have been standings. Six chairs, five dead bodies around them.
"Someone's missing."
He went up to the bar tender, now drinking a cup of coffee in the back.
"Who was the other poker player?"
"I ain't tellin you nuttin."
Hardass sighed, "Then you're going to spend a week in jail. Spill it."
"Fuck you copper. They're bigger than you. If I don't tell you, I get a week in the slammer, if I do tell you, I get killed."
Hardass pulled his gun, aiming it at the man, "Now you're fucked either way."
"C... Come on man, don't be playing. Put that thing down. Listen, I'll..."
He shot. The cup in the man's hands exploded, sending scowling coffee all over him. He screamed, wiping it off.
"Tell me."
"It was Frankie, ok? He's a right hand man for Big Man. Sometimes they come here to play cards and deal with business."
"What were they dealing with tonight?"
"I don't know man, that's the god's honest truth. All I know is that tonight they were celebrating something."
Celebrating? Could they have been celebrating Fodder's death? Nah, guys like that they probably popped off ten at a time. This one seemed different though, if Fodder had documents on Big Man...
"Sir, a man in an armani suit is in the hospital. He's claiming Jenna and her partner beat the living shit out of him."
The bar tender had gotten another cup of coffee, "White amani?"
Mike nodded.
"That's Frankie."
"So, our missing poker player. What did Jenna beat out of him?"
"There's a Hudsen Hotel, that Big Man runs, apparently there's some sort of mafia convention going on over there. A lot of big people."
"Is Big Man there?"
"We don't know. Even Frankie doesn't know. He was supposed to meet with Big Man later, but Big Man said he was going to call first."
This was getting weirder and weirder.
"Ok, so our young Fodder came in here, killed everyone he could, got information on Big Man and then left? And Jenna followed, but she didn't quite make it. She couldn't follow Forte, so she followed Frankie instead, then kicked his ass."
"That about sums it up."
God, Jenna was so hot when she did actual police work. He didn't like her methods, but damn... what a woman.
"Ok, get some people over to Hudson Hotel. I'm pretty sure Forte's off the hook for his father's murder, but that doesn't matter. He now has six other homicide's under his belt. Make his capture top priority in the entire precinct."
"Officer, it looks like we're too late. Calls are coming in, shots have been fired at the Hudsen. Jenna's cars already there, as well as a couple other patrols."
Fine, then they'd make the last call at the Hudsen.
"Get the S.W.A.T. team out there, and as many patrol cars as this county has. If what Frankie says is right, we're going to have a lot more than just one vigilante with some colts on our hand. It'll be an all out war."
Calls were already being made. Hardass looked back at the bar tender, "Don't worry, no one will find out."
He sped off, sirens blazing.

 

[mfucker]

OOC: go easy guys...i need to read up abit...

 

[mfucker]

Jenna:

"Hey I have a bad feeling about this," I said to David, as we crouched behind the backdoor, our guns drawn.

Beneath the faint light, I could make out a his face. "Tell me about it," he droned. Sometimes I wished I could just shoot him, but then again he was a great partner.

Kicking the door down, we both heard shots from upstairs.

"Late again," I mumbled as I saw some blood stains and bodies here and there. It looked abit like Vietnam, except that I've never been to Vietnam.

Just as we went up the stairs, I saw a few men hurry out of the building from yet another exit.

"What the...."

A loud explosion followed, and for a moment I thought the entire building would cave in on us...

 

[The GrandMage]

Jimmy 'The Mute' Hoffa

He slid easilly through the window to his dingy apartment. It was dark, and nearly bare. The old wodden floor was rotten in some spots, and a few termites away from ending its existance. Across the small main room the door stood closed. A large sheet of metal was welded and bolted to the door, iron bars holding it in place. In front of that was an old cot. He moved across the floor, moving a hand behind him and turning up the volume.

As sound blasted into his ears, he sat omn the cot, puklling oiff his thermals. He looked around the small room. Mostly filled with crates, lids were open to show exlposives of all kinds. From C4 to the classic TNT, even a warhead held in a hammock in the corner, dangling above the floor. Jimmy got up, and stretched again.

Looking around, he spotted the only brightly colored thing in the entire room. A small framed saying embroidered long ago.

Killing people is like making fun of them.
Some people do it to your face,
Some to your back.
But it takes a true master,
To make you do it to yourself.