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Last Fare of the Night (IC)


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GM

 

For a few moments, the Rat floated in the water, the gentle slosh of water in her ears; then she heard whispered voices coming from back out in the hallway, though she couldn't make them out. Then she saw the ghostly outlines of two figures enter the room, directly under the spotlight; though their movements suggested some military training, the darkness seemed to be throwing them.

 

The figures appeared to be males, big and beefy they the first two men she'd dispatched, but these two looked to be holding small, silenced automatics, cold metal dull and black. Both also wore suits like Ponytail and Stubbles.

 

Then a new glowing figure appeared, coming out of the men's locker room to the left; it was bigger than either of the two the Rat had dropped off in the bathroom stall, and there were several cold pieces of metal on his body.

 

It was The Man, and he was moving as quiet as a cat!

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Quiet as a mouse, silent as a fox, Noemi slipped out of the pool and sprung up on them, slamming into one of the armed men, and grabbing his wrist. He must have been a professional - which made the Man, what, a professional that hired professionals? Whatever, that was bad news. She remembered him pulling bullets out of his body. 

 

"No guns allowed!" she explained, twisting the gunman's wrist and trying to pull the gun from him. She recognised the gun and make - a good one, silent and deadly. As good as her own, perhaps. Except her gun was back in her taxi. She would rather enter a shoot out armed than unarmed...

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GM

 

It was child's play to disarm the thug, who moved much too slow to do much about it. For his part, The Man stood there with his arms spread in a semi-crouch, but with a thunderstruck expression on is face; clearly he had not seen the Rat either prior to her sudden appearance. Finally he found his words, which sounded a bit strangled in his throat.

 

"Lady, get the hell out of here; I can take these guys!" He flicked his eyes towards the two gunmen, then back to the faux-redhead. "Just run away and don't look back!"

 

At that point, the other gunman took the opportunity to shoot The Man right in the chest; his silenced pistol made almost no noise as the large assassin fell to the tiles! Meanwhile the Rat's foe shot a fist right towards her face!

Edited by Heritage
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The Rat felt the blow connect roundly with her head. But whatever else she was, she was made of robust stuff. A bruise there would be, but she ignored the crunch to her head. 

 

She took a moment to glance at the gun. 

 

Analysis: Weapon is 9mm automatic ammunition feed, make Kochler. Average velocity of rounds...

 

She ignored the rest of Slaves dutiful readout and analysis. If she needed to shoot people, she would shoot people. But not if she didn't have to. Still, worth hanging on to. She would have holstered it. But wearing a bikini, that made it a little more difficult. 

 

As for the man eating bullets. That wasn't good. 

 

She elbowed the man who punched her in the face, crunching into his nose. 

 

"I don't know what the hell is going on. But I don't like being punched in the face. And I don't like people getting shot up in a swimming pool" she explained. 

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GM

 

The first gunman dropped like a sack of potatoes, blood streaming from his broken nose as he hit the tiles, out like a light. The second gunman's eyes went wide with shock seeing his partner taken out so quickly, but recovers fast enough to turn his gun on the Rat!

 

For his part, The Man was still down, blood oozing from his chest and into the pool, where it formed a ghastly pink cloud in the water...

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With a crack of the gun, it was the Red Rats turn to eat a bullet. It chiselled its way just above her collar bone, to the sound of bone splintering. 

 

Not the first time she had been shot. And just a flesh wound. But still..

 

"You shot me, you bum!" she said, as she started to bleed. She wasn't in the habit of eating bullets. 

 

A quick step forward and she threw her fist into the gunman, all knuckles, all power, all force. Flesh wound that time, but damn it smarted, and bullets were not always flesh wounds. 

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GM

 

The second assailant fell to the floor next to the first, and for the moment, the pool was once again quiet, other than the slow breathing of the Rat's victims and the gentle lapping of the water.

 

Suddenly The Man coughed and spat up a mouthful of blood, then pushed himself to his knees; he shook his head a few times and blinked his eyes. "Whuzzah...?" Then his gaze locked onto the redhead, and his features set in anger. "You." He pointed towards the door. "Get the hell out before the cops and security start showing up." There was blood in his teeth again, but mostly he looked tired and pissed off.

Edited by Heritage
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"What are you, Rasputin?" answered the Rat, pulling him up. 

 

"Eat bullets for breakfast? What's your next trick, poison? stabbing?" she asked. The man felt heavy, but she was strong enough. 

 

"Not that I want to meet security or the cops. The names Rat. The Red Rat. Not because of my hair, but because I am an ex-Soviet Spy who very much wants to avoid people talking to me" she explained. If the Man recognised her, it would be impressive. 

 

"But you know, old habits die hard. I like knowing what's going on. Before I get shot myself. I find it hurts quite a bit" she grunted, hauling him away from the pool area. Away from any sniper fire. 

 

"Feel free to get that tounge wagging, if its not chewing lead" she said, pressing him. 

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The professional killer took the hand up, clutching his chest as he rose. "Yeah, you're damn right it ain't because of your hair; your color's running, dollface." He pulled his hand away and looked at his bloody fingers. "Next time try Sassoon Pro Series; it holds up better to getting wet..."

 

The Man took a deep breath, which made him wince. "S###! Look, I don't know who you are, blondie, but I've got a job to do; I don't know if your another pro or some kind of 'super-duper', but I'm giving you one last warning." He pulled a long military style blade out of his left sleeve. "Walk away right now, or I will have to hurt you."

Edited by Heritage
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The Red Rat took a few steps back, concerned. The man did indeed have a Rasputin like endurance. 

 

Analysis: Target is armed with military blade....processing...skilled in martial arts...approach with extreme caution...

 

Yes, got that...

 

"No need for violence" perhaps "And yeah, you could call me one of those super dupers. Except I don't wear a cape and ain't a goody two shoes dick" she said, hoping a slight injection of humour might defuse it slightly. 

 

"I'm not gonna get in your way, except maybe if you want to kill me or somebody else" she explained. "Thing is, I would like to know exactly what that job of yours is..." she asked, on the alert. 

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GM

 

The Man rolled his eyes, spared a quick glance at his watch and rubbed his face with his free hand, clearly not having a very good night. "Look, I really don't want to have to hurt you, lady, but I'll be honest with you, I'm not a very nice man. Some other bad men hired me to kill an even worse man, so that's what I've got to do."

 

He sighed and shook his head, clearly not happy with the situation. "If you leave right now, just walk away, I will let you live; if you don't, than I'm afraid I'll have to kill you, too. And I'd really hate to have to do that..." He held his hands out in front of him, still holding the knife but practically begging the Rat to leave.

Edited by Heritage
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The Rat took a step back, and stopped. 

 

"I believe you. I believe you are a bad man that kills worse men" she said, level headed. 

 

"I used to do the same, for more years than you. I have blood on my hands. Most days, I tell myself it was because I had my orders. Orders that had to be obeyed. And most days, I know that's the truth. Its just some days I have a crawling down my skin and into my gut. And those days I don't like so much" she said, as much to herself as to the Man. 

 

"So these days, I try to stop the killing part. And that means you to. Killing happens, but only what it absolutely needs to happen. So I guess I have to stop you, unless you tell me just why you have to kill a bad man"

 

"And I won't like stopping you. Because you are polite..."

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GM

 

The Man sighed deeply and nodded; just then, one of the gunmen's phone began to buzz insistently. "He's going to send the big guns soon; these goofballs were rentals."

 

The hulking professional killer rolled his neck and shoulders, and then unexpectedly bowed and spread his arms, holding his knife almost like a conductor's baton, and smiled ruefully.

 

"May I have this dance?"

Edited by Heritage
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The Rat took one more step backwards. 

 

"You talk much, but say little"

 

What a frustrating man. She didn't know what to do. Violence was on the menu tonight, but she didn't know why, or how, or when. And she didn't know exactly who was shooting or stabbing who. 

 

"I'm not a cop. I'm not here to arrest you, my hands are as dirty as anyone's. But I cant just sit and watch death blossom" she explained as succinctly as possible, before stepping quickly forward and grabbing the man's wrist. 

 

"If you start telling me something rather than just talking, I could even be on your side" she explained as she tried to twist the knife out of his hand. 

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GM

 

The Rat could barely get her fingers around The Man's massive wrist; he quickly flicked the knife into his other hand, reversed his grip, and trapped her much more slender wrist in his vice-like grip. But though there would be no escaping those calused fingers, he did not crush her arm and barely bruised her skin.

 

"Sorry it had to end this way, lady." And then her vision was eclipsed by a huge fist rushing at her like a frieght train-

 

- - -

 

Suddenly Noemi was awake, on her back, in the park across the street from the Randhurst; several police cars were in front of the building, as well as an ambulance and a local news van. Blood from a split lip trickled into her mouth, and her head felt like it was wrapped in damp cotton. 

Edited by Heritage
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Analysis: Severe Concussion. Dislocated Left Shoulder. Microfracture to right clavicle...

 

Yes yes! I can feel it myself!

 

That had been one nasty bump. And she could only guess she had fallen badly too. 

 

She started with a large groan, just to expel it from her, then got up, feeling her bruised and swollen face. Big "Easy" wouldnt like that. A taxi driver with two black eyes and a busted lip tended to put customers off. 

 

"But I walked into a lampost..."

 

Never mind. The police cars, ambulance, and press where here. And she should not be. Time to limp home and nurse her bruises. Who that man was, she still didn't know. The trail had gone cold. All she knew was he hit like a train and...and yet, had presumably dragged her out here to avoid the masses...

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GM

 

In time, the facts became clear; Arkady Dragomirov was found dead in his condo, garroted from behind in his bathroom, a Skorpion machine pistol just out of reach next to the sink. The house on Osgood Avenue burned to the ground the next day, a three alarm fire that the FCFD suspected involved large amounts of accelerant; nothing was recovered from the blaze, and the owner of the name listed on the rental agreement had been dead for seven years. Neighbors could only dimly recall the big man who'd lived there; he wasn't home much, lived quietly, received no mail. The woman across the street thought he worked in sales, or maybe banking.

 

There was however one clue that Slave noted in its memory banks, a quick glance at The Man's gold money clip, engraved with the initials 'WHC'; it wasn't much, but it was something.

 

Noemi was sure one day they would meet again... 

Edited by Heritage
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