Post by Stewart on Jan 18, 2017 8:18:07 GMT
South Capital Art and History Museum. 8:43 Pm. Dark night. Raining.
When the curator of the Museum had decided to hire extra security for a night, he had been expecting a Private Security company, maybe a few mercenaries, or four men in a van with a Red Stripe on the side. He had not been expecting a teenage with wolf ears and a tail, who seemed overly confident in his abilities. And though he was mostly hidden by a red cloak, those features WERE very visible.
Boots squeaked on the freshly waxed floor, as the cloaked individual examined various exhibits, only stopping in place once every few seconds. The entire point to having him stand guard was so he could watch a single, very shiny, very priceless gem...which he really hadn't so much as taken a glance at yet.
"Ahem!" The curator finally decided to speak up. "Like I said, the Quantum Gemerald is down THIS hall? The thing I'm paying you to protect?" He was annoyed but the blatant lack of caring that was being shown now. The lack of response only made him more uneasy about the whole ordeal. And that unease turned to fear when the hired help promptly walked in the opposite direction, yet again. The curator made a move to chase after him, though promptly slipped and fell against the ground. Hard. He glared at the place where he fell, the same place the help had been standing. There was a perfect circle of shiny ice, and it faded quickly once he was further away...what sort of person had he actually hired?
Meanwhile, outside, cliche black limos pulled up. Black limos were always a requirement for Museum Thefts, and anyone who says otherwise is a huge liar and total phony.
And the curator was...horribly confused. He had already lost track of the protection he had hired. He was a slippery one...and not just because he kept leaving ice that the man slipped on, repeatedly. Of course, his search was cut off by a very, very loud bang from the doors to the building. Tall, heavy wood hit tile floor, and both took damage. The bang was enough to get the curator to hide in his office immediately. He didn't have time to worry about his flaky guard, his life was way more important!
Several men in suits entered, including...a large man in an outfit that could only be described as a Mob-Boss, along with two identical goth women, because every heist needed goth women and Mob Bosses. If there was a musical que, it would probably be something like This. Armed gunmen started making sure the coast was clear, as the True King. Surely this was a Bad-ass not to be screwed with.
His Gunmen were another matter entirely, as Gunmen tended to be completely useless, and just there to get their asses kicked in the first part of a fight, a duty they would no doubt live up to as the night progressed. They returned to their leader to give the all clear, which was almost entirely wrong, seeing as what lights WERE on all suddenly turned off, minus a few dim ones in display cases.
The boss did not seem concerned by this in the slightest, and sent his men to go get the god-damn Gemerald before some bigger bad-ass came from nowhere and started kicking their asses, as Bad-Asses tended to do. Yes, grunts truly lived in fear of anyone remotely competent.
If there was a soundtrack that were to play for the upcoming fight, it would probably be This.
The traditional single grunt was knocked out of the Gemerald's room, sliding across the floor all the way to his bosses feet, who stepped over him cuz no-one had time for that. The hired help showed himself, looking very cool with his special cloak. Awwwwww yeah. The armed grunts rose their guns, when one was simply impaled on a chunk of ice. The help quickly closed distance, drop kicking another of the grunts into a display case with a loud shatter. The grunts had enough of it quickly, surprisingly, and simply opened fire, only for each bullet to freeze in midair when it got close...and then simply shattered upon touching his cloak anyway.
In a split second, distance had been closed again, and another poor grunt got roundhouse kicked, while another suddenly experienced an icy-lobotomy. It was possible some grunts were getting off better than others.
The Boss was running out of men quickly, and he was NOT interested in that, and kindly suggested they get their freaking acts together. Though considering one of his men was formally introduced to the wall next to him right after that, it seemed unlikely.
He was now out of grunts, leaving him with only his awesome goth chicks, who probably engaged the Hired Help to music something like [/a]this.
As always, anyone who didn't look like a generic grunt faired way better. The two battled with a hammer and a whip respectively, and immediately, the whip toting one caught a hold of his tail, flinging him, with some difficulty, into a display case.
"...Sup?" Offered the grunt who had previously be flung into there. The help had no time to reply, as the other goth chick attempted to introduce him into Mr. Hammer, and he didn't much feel like greeting Mr. Hammer. He rolled out of the case though still suffered a hammering to the leg...at which point said hammer promptly shattered, because it was both cheap, and not being used on the Average Human...Wolf...Warrior, anymore!
The hammer user was quickly removed from the fight, because, well, no weapon. She ended up meeting the HELP'S Friend, Mr. Icicle, which greeted her somewhere in the left leg.
The Whip user offered a far bigger challenge. You see, she realized how to keep him at a distance, and promptly whipped him whenever he even tried to take a step forwards, tattering his awesome cloak. (R.I.P. Cloak, ?-?). Though, her whip was promptly caught, frozen, and shattered.
That just left the true king. Who's theme was probably something along the lines of this
Just a one on one fight, the final boss, mysterious wolf guy, vs Boss and OH CRAP RIGHT HOOK. The help had been caught off guard by the Boss's surprisingly fast punch, which was followed up by two more, the latter of which was a firm punch to the gut, which was surprisingly painful. And right back into the display case for The Help, who climbed out again, and this time, seemed...slightly off.
He was more vicious with his attacks than he had been with The Grunts, and seemed stronger too. The Boss and Help were going blow for blow, and were, well, even. Which was odd, he wasn't exactly used to being even with anyone. Still, he seemed to be getting the upper hand again. Well, at least until his arm started freezing. And then the rest of him. Yes, he was frozen entirely solid ((OOC Note: An ability Stewart only has for this fight cuz I thought it'd be cool)). And the last thing he would see if he could see was The Help's arm shifting into a FAR more monstrous one. Then there was a VERY loud shatter.
The help was already gone by the morning, though, he HAD protected the gem. Not waiting for his payment, even. It seemed like he had only been there for the fighting, the strange 'Mercenary' named Stewart.
When the curator of the Museum had decided to hire extra security for a night, he had been expecting a Private Security company, maybe a few mercenaries, or four men in a van with a Red Stripe on the side. He had not been expecting a teenage with wolf ears and a tail, who seemed overly confident in his abilities. And though he was mostly hidden by a red cloak, those features WERE very visible.
Boots squeaked on the freshly waxed floor, as the cloaked individual examined various exhibits, only stopping in place once every few seconds. The entire point to having him stand guard was so he could watch a single, very shiny, very priceless gem...which he really hadn't so much as taken a glance at yet.
"Ahem!" The curator finally decided to speak up. "Like I said, the Quantum Gemerald is down THIS hall? The thing I'm paying you to protect?" He was annoyed but the blatant lack of caring that was being shown now. The lack of response only made him more uneasy about the whole ordeal. And that unease turned to fear when the hired help promptly walked in the opposite direction, yet again. The curator made a move to chase after him, though promptly slipped and fell against the ground. Hard. He glared at the place where he fell, the same place the help had been standing. There was a perfect circle of shiny ice, and it faded quickly once he was further away...what sort of person had he actually hired?
Meanwhile, outside, cliche black limos pulled up. Black limos were always a requirement for Museum Thefts, and anyone who says otherwise is a huge liar and total phony.
And the curator was...horribly confused. He had already lost track of the protection he had hired. He was a slippery one...and not just because he kept leaving ice that the man slipped on, repeatedly. Of course, his search was cut off by a very, very loud bang from the doors to the building. Tall, heavy wood hit tile floor, and both took damage. The bang was enough to get the curator to hide in his office immediately. He didn't have time to worry about his flaky guard, his life was way more important!
Several men in suits entered, including...a large man in an outfit that could only be described as a Mob-Boss, along with two identical goth women, because every heist needed goth women and Mob Bosses. If there was a musical que, it would probably be something like This. Armed gunmen started making sure the coast was clear, as the True King. Surely this was a Bad-ass not to be screwed with.
His Gunmen were another matter entirely, as Gunmen tended to be completely useless, and just there to get their asses kicked in the first part of a fight, a duty they would no doubt live up to as the night progressed. They returned to their leader to give the all clear, which was almost entirely wrong, seeing as what lights WERE on all suddenly turned off, minus a few dim ones in display cases.
The boss did not seem concerned by this in the slightest, and sent his men to go get the god-damn Gemerald before some bigger bad-ass came from nowhere and started kicking their asses, as Bad-Asses tended to do. Yes, grunts truly lived in fear of anyone remotely competent.
If there was a soundtrack that were to play for the upcoming fight, it would probably be This.
The traditional single grunt was knocked out of the Gemerald's room, sliding across the floor all the way to his bosses feet, who stepped over him cuz no-one had time for that. The hired help showed himself, looking very cool with his special cloak. Awwwwww yeah. The armed grunts rose their guns, when one was simply impaled on a chunk of ice. The help quickly closed distance, drop kicking another of the grunts into a display case with a loud shatter. The grunts had enough of it quickly, surprisingly, and simply opened fire, only for each bullet to freeze in midair when it got close...and then simply shattered upon touching his cloak anyway.
In a split second, distance had been closed again, and another poor grunt got roundhouse kicked, while another suddenly experienced an icy-lobotomy. It was possible some grunts were getting off better than others.
The Boss was running out of men quickly, and he was NOT interested in that, and kindly suggested they get their freaking acts together. Though considering one of his men was formally introduced to the wall next to him right after that, it seemed unlikely.
He was now out of grunts, leaving him with only his awesome goth chicks, who probably engaged the Hired Help to music something like [/a]this.
As always, anyone who didn't look like a generic grunt faired way better. The two battled with a hammer and a whip respectively, and immediately, the whip toting one caught a hold of his tail, flinging him, with some difficulty, into a display case.
"...Sup?" Offered the grunt who had previously be flung into there. The help had no time to reply, as the other goth chick attempted to introduce him into Mr. Hammer, and he didn't much feel like greeting Mr. Hammer. He rolled out of the case though still suffered a hammering to the leg...at which point said hammer promptly shattered, because it was both cheap, and not being used on the Average Human...Wolf...Warrior, anymore!
The hammer user was quickly removed from the fight, because, well, no weapon. She ended up meeting the HELP'S Friend, Mr. Icicle, which greeted her somewhere in the left leg.
The Whip user offered a far bigger challenge. You see, she realized how to keep him at a distance, and promptly whipped him whenever he even tried to take a step forwards, tattering his awesome cloak. (R.I.P. Cloak, ?-?). Though, her whip was promptly caught, frozen, and shattered.
That just left the true king. Who's theme was probably something along the lines of this
Just a one on one fight, the final boss, mysterious wolf guy, vs Boss and OH CRAP RIGHT HOOK. The help had been caught off guard by the Boss's surprisingly fast punch, which was followed up by two more, the latter of which was a firm punch to the gut, which was surprisingly painful. And right back into the display case for The Help, who climbed out again, and this time, seemed...slightly off.
He was more vicious with his attacks than he had been with The Grunts, and seemed stronger too. The Boss and Help were going blow for blow, and were, well, even. Which was odd, he wasn't exactly used to being even with anyone. Still, he seemed to be getting the upper hand again. Well, at least until his arm started freezing. And then the rest of him. Yes, he was frozen entirely solid ((OOC Note: An ability Stewart only has for this fight cuz I thought it'd be cool)). And the last thing he would see if he could see was The Help's arm shifting into a FAR more monstrous one. Then there was a VERY loud shatter.
The help was already gone by the morning, though, he HAD protected the gem. Not waiting for his payment, even. It seemed like he had only been there for the fighting, the strange 'Mercenary' named Stewart.