Aug 28, 2017 12:46 pm
In hindsight, stopping to watch the big storm roll in was a bad choice. Lights were flickering, the tower had a worrisome creak to it, winds howling outside and lightning cracking down into the nearby towers, black rain coming down in buckets. All the fury looked like it was outside.
In hindsight, 'Killer' shoulda known better. No-one gets away from Dremmer, not even him.
It's been a rough time this last year, trying to make a safe place for his daughter Toni. She's settled, learning, talking to people. 'Killer''s scars are healing up, and he's only been in a few scrapes since.
"I musta been kidding myself that he'd forgotten what he said, what he promised. That he'd just let go. I shoulda known." He mutters, shrugging through the weather as he heads inside, to warmth and to Toni.
There's a crack outside, like a gun going off beside his head it's so loud. The flash lights up the misty night out there, and he can't help but catch a pale face, way down in a window, next building over.
She's looking at him, right at him like she knows he's there, and he sees her lips move like she's whispering something into the howling gale.
Then the light fades and she's gone, vanished just like the last time. But he just can't shake this feeling like she's still down there somewhere, waiting to see him again just as bad as he's longing to see her.
He heads into the structure of Atlas Terminal, hoping to get away from the windows out, the eyes of the maelstrom's soul. He passes by the market, mostly shut up to stay out of the black rain. His big boots slosh through the watery crud dripping through the structure and the rain seeps from his battered armour vest, trickling down his thick, tattooed arms and from off his shaven head.
Just outside Pops' place, Sorrow and some of their creepy chums are hanging out, their wierd censers trickling Mist out like filthy green smoke, and their little fingerbells jangling like windchimes as they flutter their hands about. They're taking whiffs, breathing it out in rhythm with the thunder from outside.
He walks past, ignoring the shuddersome four and finally spying the lit window. Inside, he can see a small girl sitting at the counter, recounting her day to an older man in a three-piece suit at the counter.
He's not busy, but he's got things to do. But he's making time to listen to a little girl late in the evening.
'Killer' smiles faintly, his hard demeanor softening, until he hears a voice not to far away.
"She's a good kid. Real nice." comes Sorrow's voice, scratchy and velvety at the same time like one of Pops' records.
"What'd you say?" 'Killer' is all grim again, his softness gone in an instant.
"C'mon, 'Killer', you heard me," says Sorrow, "and you know Dremmer ain't done with you."
The tension in the air is suddenly palpable, humming like a violin string holding a note. 'Killer''s eyes narrow briefly, and his knuckles make a low creak as he clenches, readying to visit violence. Blood thrums in his ears and his teeth squeak.
"Hey now, just the messenger..." says Sorrow.
The music from inside Pops' tinkles audibly above the rain for a moment, and the lights brown momentarily.
'Killer' holds Sorrow's gaze a moment longer, another moment, until the gaunt androgyne falters, licking their lips.
'Killer' breathes low, closes his eyes, and opens his hands.
"We ain't doing this. Not here, not now. You and me, we're going to have words again, Sorrow."
Sorrow blushes, spots of colour high in their cheeks, and takes a half-step back.
"If it ain't me, it'll be someone else. Could be Rolfball. Could be Vonk. Choose your words, and your audience, 'Killer'."
Sorrow and their creeps fade into the dark, fingerbells jingling away.
'Killer' lets out a big breath, releasing energy, and takes a few jogging steps on the spot, working up the energy for a big effort. He limbers his shoulders and wipes his head clean, his choice made.
Then he turns, his face splits into a wide white grin, and he bundles through the door into Pops' place.
"Toni! You miss your daddy?"
He passes off a fragrant, foil-wrapped brick to Pops as he passes, his eyes only on one target, narrowing to a laser focus.
Now, the fury is all burning away on the inside.
Also, let me know if the prose is too purple. I'm trying for thematic, but I don't want to overdo it.
In hindsight, 'Killer' shoulda known better. No-one gets away from Dremmer, not even him.
It's been a rough time this last year, trying to make a safe place for his daughter Toni. She's settled, learning, talking to people. 'Killer''s scars are healing up, and he's only been in a few scrapes since.
"I musta been kidding myself that he'd forgotten what he said, what he promised. That he'd just let go. I shoulda known." He mutters, shrugging through the weather as he heads inside, to warmth and to Toni.
There's a crack outside, like a gun going off beside his head it's so loud. The flash lights up the misty night out there, and he can't help but catch a pale face, way down in a window, next building over.
She's looking at him, right at him like she knows he's there, and he sees her lips move like she's whispering something into the howling gale.
Then the light fades and she's gone, vanished just like the last time. But he just can't shake this feeling like she's still down there somewhere, waiting to see him again just as bad as he's longing to see her.
He heads into the structure of Atlas Terminal, hoping to get away from the windows out, the eyes of the maelstrom's soul. He passes by the market, mostly shut up to stay out of the black rain. His big boots slosh through the watery crud dripping through the structure and the rain seeps from his battered armour vest, trickling down his thick, tattooed arms and from off his shaven head.
Just outside Pops' place, Sorrow and some of their creepy chums are hanging out, their wierd censers trickling Mist out like filthy green smoke, and their little fingerbells jangling like windchimes as they flutter their hands about. They're taking whiffs, breathing it out in rhythm with the thunder from outside.
He walks past, ignoring the shuddersome four and finally spying the lit window. Inside, he can see a small girl sitting at the counter, recounting her day to an older man in a three-piece suit at the counter.
He's not busy, but he's got things to do. But he's making time to listen to a little girl late in the evening.
'Killer' smiles faintly, his hard demeanor softening, until he hears a voice not to far away.
"She's a good kid. Real nice." comes Sorrow's voice, scratchy and velvety at the same time like one of Pops' records.
"What'd you say?" 'Killer' is all grim again, his softness gone in an instant.
"C'mon, 'Killer', you heard me," says Sorrow, "and you know Dremmer ain't done with you."
The tension in the air is suddenly palpable, humming like a violin string holding a note. 'Killer''s eyes narrow briefly, and his knuckles make a low creak as he clenches, readying to visit violence. Blood thrums in his ears and his teeth squeak.
"Hey now, just the messenger..." says Sorrow.
The music from inside Pops' tinkles audibly above the rain for a moment, and the lights brown momentarily.
'Killer' holds Sorrow's gaze a moment longer, another moment, until the gaunt androgyne falters, licking their lips.
'Killer' breathes low, closes his eyes, and opens his hands.
"We ain't doing this. Not here, not now. You and me, we're going to have words again, Sorrow."
Sorrow blushes, spots of colour high in their cheeks, and takes a half-step back.
"If it ain't me, it'll be someone else. Could be Rolfball. Could be Vonk. Choose your words, and your audience, 'Killer'."
Sorrow and their creeps fade into the dark, fingerbells jingling away.
'Killer' lets out a big breath, releasing energy, and takes a few jogging steps on the spot, working up the energy for a big effort. He limbers his shoulders and wipes his head clean, his choice made.
Then he turns, his face splits into a wide white grin, and he bundles through the door into Pops' place.
"Toni! You miss your daddy?"
He passes off a fragrant, foil-wrapped brick to Pops as he passes, his eyes only on one target, narrowing to a laser focus.
Now, the fury is all burning away on the inside.
OOC:
(Rolled +Hard, came up with an 8. Decided that the Razors wanting my armour was the one to skip. For now.)Also, let me know if the prose is too purple. I'm trying for thematic, but I don't want to overdo it.
Last edited August 28, 2017 12:47 pm
