Jump to content
  • Making an Entrance

    Isaac Wilson

    Recommended Posts

    Sometimes, things went smoothly. Generally, when Push was by himself, things went smoothly.


    When he worked with other people these days, that was when things got extraordinarily fucked up.


    The big Marine vanished behind the steel beam that served as one of the half-finished nightclub's supports as a hail of gunfire penetrated the air where he had just been. The job had been intended to be simple. At the request of one of the syndicate's higher ranking members, one of the Dons had made a call and asked Push to accompany a group on a showing to a club that was under construction. The owner had been reaching out to someone else for protection it seemed, and had begun to make noise about canceling his payments to Bakkhos, which of course was not the sort of thing that could be tolerated.


    Ordinarily, as Push understood it, that sort of thing had a quick and simple resolution. Someone showed up and broke things and or bones until the recalcitrant businessman saw that he was not making payments on something optional. But apparently Johnny boy here had some connections, and breaking his things and or person might have been somewhat... impolitic, in the eyes of certain people the Dons wanted to keep happy. So they thought of another plan. Make a show of force. Send one of the rising young stars, a woman from the lower East side on the track to be Made later in the year. And in case that didn't do the trick, have the infamous Sword of Damocles the syndicate hung over its own, the six-four MARSOC Marine sniper.


    Push didn't like this sort of job. It meant going in, being watched, having the enemy know where he was. All things he disliked with some level of passion, but for the occasional favor, he agreed. Besides which, things had been somewhat quiet, at least up until the explosions in the city a few weeks prior. Those had people on edge. Which had, in retrospect, probably contributed to the current situation.


    When Push and the six other Bacchan 'soldiers' (the Syndicate used the word, Push was ever loathe to for the undisciplined criminals) had arrived, things had seemed fine for about ten seconds. At which point, the idiot the Dons had placed 'in charge' had gone and told the club owner who Push was. The initial reaction had been actually somewhat satisfying - the way the color went out of his face, his legs almost collapsing in... the instant he shouted for someone named Coleman had shattered that moment rather handily.


    By Push's count, there had been eight men who emerged at that call. Men with rifles, against the six Bacchans plus Push, armed with pistols and MP7 PDWs at the most. Three of the Bacchans went down in the first two seconds, as had four of the unexpected guests, two by .45 caliber rounds from Push's Sig P220. He'd fired a third shot as he slipped behind the girder, not for a kill this time, but the jacketed hollow point blowing a satisfyingly large hole in the upper leg of the so-called entrepreneur. When this smoke cleared, that man was not going to be running away... Push fully intended to call him to account for this.


    The gunfire was almost constant by this point, deafening in the enclosed space - Push saw by quick check that the three of 'his' people who were down were now certainly dead, finished off when they tried to move. One of the others was down behind the bar, clutching a shot to the lower leg - that man was going to need to get it together. Another was still shooting, and Push swung his pistol back out, squeezing off a pair of shots blind - not totally unaimed, however, as he fired toward where one of the still-standing newcomers had been. He darted out immediately, sweeping the room with his last four shots (one hit, shoulder, nonlethal, but not bad for a pistol at twenty yards while at a dead sprint) before he dropped behind another of the support beams, scooping up one of the fallen MP7s as he did. The 220 slide snapped back, empty, and he smoothly drew a magazine from his sling at the same time he ejected the spent one, sliding the fresh mag home and hitting the release to snap the slide back forward and chamber the first new round.


    That went to his left hand, while he lifted the MP7 in his right - the weapon was small enough to use as a pistol, particularly for someone of his size, though he would have to watch his discipline, no full auto bursts with just one wrist to hold down the recoil, not even his.


    He was going to have a long talk with Angelo about not asking him to follow the lead of inexperienced street thugs. He'd told the man before, he worked on his own terms, with his own plans, or not at all. He'd gotten sloppy on this job... the last few months had been uncomfortably directionless for him, since Suri left. The Marine was going through the motions, and now it was ending badly. Well. He wasn't going to let it end THAT badly. He just needed to hold out until the B team came through the back...

    Link to comment
    Guest Suri Creed

    It was a still night.


    Cold.  Crisp.  But the moon was high in the sky and the stars could be seen, despite the busy city.  There was a slight fog that had settled in, the kind that you only see on the scariest movies.  This is where things were most likely to go bump in the night.  Tonight was no exception.  


    She'd been gone months now.  At first it was just to see her parents.  The smuggler had hugged her man and told him she needed a break from everything, except him.  She had to leave New York and stretch her legs.  A quick trip to her home country to visit her family and make sure they were safe.  It was short lived, however, because the moon came rising in full not too long afterwards.  She would never put her family in harms way.  Sadly, she hopped a cargo plane back to New York and settled in her own apartment for a while.  Unemployed, Suri knew she would have to pick up her old lifestyle again.  Smuggling drugs, weapons, people, whatever she needed to do to stay afloat, she would.  


    That is, until the moon rose.  With the new found purpose in her life, the werewolf also found something else it hungered for.  No longer was the beast content with being a loner in a world of others.  Instead, it would claim New York as its own.  One by one, wolf by wolf, the monster hunted them down.  Those that stood before her were claimed by her jaws and those that did not… they were chased from the lower New York City streets.  There was only one werewolf who would claim this area as her own.  


    Suri, in her own mind, knew she was a walking target.  The one werewolf in hundreds that could manipulate an ambush attack to control the outcome of a fight.  She was high on the kill list, yet, no one had marked the animal.  Suri, in her human mind, understood.  She knew that she had an 'eye in the sky' looking out for her.  Her own little guardian angel, Push. 


    On such a clear night, the beast wandered.  It's initial blood lust had not subsided, only faded for a fleeting moment.  She was wandering, aimlessly, patrolling her streets when the sound of gunfire rang out.  It was close.  That meant it was in her territory.  Snarling, the wolf trotted down the street towards the disturbance.  


    As she drew closer the sound was deafening.  Her paws trotted down the street briskly as she followed the noise.  As she rounded the corner, there it was.  The club, torn up as it was, the vicious cracking noises of gun fire.  The wolf's instinct was to leave it be.  The sound of bullets could only mean pain for the animal.  She would of turned and left, but the scent of blood teased her nostrils.  The lips of the animal curled back and jagged teeth gleamed in the moonlight as she took in the second smell. 




    Someone had mixed the scents of blood and something that belonged to her.  Mine the wolf growled again.  It was then that everything clicked in the animal's mind.  The wolf's adrenaline raced as she barged through an unfinished window.  Her entrance was big.  The eight foot monster took to the center of the room and for a moment, all activity ceased.  It was common knowledge that when a werewolf was in sight… you were just better off dead.  


    Golden eyes glanced at each person in the room.  It was dark, but she could smell them.  She could smell gunpowder, she could smell blood… she could smell him.  Rising to a bipedal position the reigning alpha wolf lifted her nose into the air.  Breathing in his scent, she exhaled and sang her war cry to her audience.  With a deafening howl, she announced her presence to the crowd.  Dropping back on all fours, the wolf grunted as she followed the blood scented trail to the wounded. 


    He did not have time to beg for his life, nor cry for mercy.  The she-wolf leapt upon her wounded prey as a muffled scream died down.  Warm blood painted her maw as she crunched bones between her jaws.  His last breath had just expired as she turned to the other man in the room.  Growling, she started to crawl closed towards him.  The monster was going to claim her second prize… unless her other half had other plans.  


    She inched closer towards her prey, waiting for Push's command.  He was the one being that could sway a werewolf.  


    The one and only. 

    Link to comment

    He had gotten lucky the club was going for the industrial look. If the steel columns hadn't been here, he might have been in some rather deeper shit, and if they got the chance to focus on him entirely - that was, if the few remaining members of his 'team' got themselves killed before the B team made it in through the back, he was likely to end up dead.

    Not that he was going to go quietly... but the idea that he might go at all was irritating.

    He ran a count while he gathered himself. Two of his left. Four total of theirs. It would have been an even fight if not for the ARs they had brought to the party, which was of course the problem with keeping them pinned down. There was a considerable imbalance of firepower at this point. But not necessarily insurmountable. Push leaned to the left, swinging the pistol around and firing blindly. The answering fire came almost immediately as he pulled his hand back in, and while they fired at the left side, Push swung back around to the right. They had their weapons up, under most circumstances they would have been faster, but they weren't fighting an even fight.

    Push drew the MP7 in his right hand up on the first one just as the light of recognition came into the man's eyes, and a quick pair of shots barked out, punching into the meat just below his collarbone, while Push turned and rolled back to the other side to avoid a second barrage of fire. He didn't pause to shoot this time, firing again on the run as he took two steps and flung himself at the bar. He hit the metal surface hard and twisted himself as he did, rolling off and behind it before the opfor could get a trace on him. His instinct that the heavy metal bar would hold up under fire was founded it seemed - the shots didn't get through to him. For the first time, ostentation was working for him... someone had used overly thick steel and they weren't using AP rounds.

    He pushed himself to his feet, snagging a bottle of something - he didn't bother to look what - and throwing it up into the air. When it reached apogee, over the heads of the remaining foes, he snapped his pistol up and shot the bottle clean through, shattering it and letting the liquid - and its eye-stinging ethanol - rain down over them. Chances were, it wouldn't get in their eyes, but it was a distraction. And these men, from the way they held their bursts too long, the inaccuracy of the fire, they were no professionals. Any distractions were going to be worth their weight in bullets at this particular moment.

    Just as he was about to spring up, having already moved a few yards down the bar to appear in a different spot than they'd been expecting, when he heard a considerably louder sound of breaking glass... and a snarl he could have sworn he knew by heart. He opened his hand, dropping the P220, left hand slipping back into his coat to draw the snub nosed .357 magnum he kept loaded with silver hollow points and in the holster at the small of his back whenever the moon was full. The others, naturally, let out cries of alarm, scrambling to escape from the  wolf.

    There was not going to be any way out for them. Push knew better. He rose up from the bar, leveling the .357 even as he turned... and just for a moment, for barely a fraction of a second, the Marine froze. Push didn't freeze up, he didn't flap, didn't startle... but he had not been expecting... Suri.

    And then the others plowed into the room. It wasn't Push's B team, but they were backing in, clerly under fire - the owner hadn't been so stupid after all, and had clearly left a rearguard. So there were six more now moving in, backs to the room... they didn't know the danger that had stalked into their house. Push did. He didn't think Suri would attack him - even a werewolf, vicious as they were, was smart enough to learn, and Suri's wolf had many moons to know he was no enemy, nor was he prey, and like any wolf perhaps she'd even accepted him to some degree. It didn't mean he expected affection, but he did suspect she would react... badly if anyone ELSE tried to kill him. Which meant...

    [push]THEM![/push] Push roared, turning the MP7 and firing on the ones who had just entered... You couldn't contain a werewolf, but if they had a target already, well... it would keep one busy. He vaulted over the bar again, keeping low as he moved, waving off the two Bakkhan survivors. If they antagonized Suri by firing, he couldn't do much for them. So it was time they got the hell out.

    Link to comment
    Guest Suri Creed

    Her translucent quality to her coat was both a blessing and a curse.  On one hand, she could blend in, hide, ambush any enemy within her sights.  The hair was sable colored, but always appeared to be moving, shaping, trying to find what it was trying to blend with so well.  It made her a sensational hunter.  On the other hand, she was the only werewolf that possessed this.  It made her a solid target.  This was how she was marked.  This is how she was ID'ed by the 'powers that be' who would try to end her reign.  This was also how she was set apart from the others by one man.  


    Eye to eye with a human man and he never so much as blinked.  Her golden eyes bore into his own brown ones as her nose detected the foul scent of human waste offending her sense of smell.  Her target had shit himself, which was an appropriate response to the terror he was facing.  Teeth bared to the human before her, the wolf took a moment to turn and glance at the one she knew.  


    Her stare was broken by the sound of gunfire that was coming from her right.  A mob of humans stalked towards her, none giving her as so much a glance.  The wolf pinned her ears flat against her skull, clearly defensive in this type of an environment.  The sound of his voice alarmed her.  He was unsettled, startled, and clearly anxious at the arrival of the others.  The MP7 deafened her for a second as the sound echoed off concrete and steel.  


    It all happened in a matter of seconds.  The men turned, weapons clearly drawn for combat, to face the man who had shouted.  It was then, that fraction of a second when terror strikes and a man processes horror, that the werewolf reacted.  While they, clearly shifting from horror to panic, tried to force their fingers to flex, just enough to fire their weapons… the werewolf leapt from her current soiled victim to the six facing her.  


    She opened her jaws and let a roar escape.  There was no growl, no snarl, nor howl from the wolf, only a vicious sound that could of shamed a bear absconded from her throat.  Bullets showered towards her one after another but none were prepared to effectively execute a wolf.  Like ants stinging human flesh, the bullets pricked her skin.  The wolf was smart enough to know what came next.  Move towards them and they would faulter.  Move away and their aim would improve.  War tactics in the animal world was much different than in the human realm. 


    The hell hound lunged forward and scattered the line of men.  She had an interesting way of combat when out numbered and in a closed space.  First she pounced on one, her sheer weigh knocking him to the ground.  Though she would take a bullet to the chest (that smarted very much) Her jaws would clamp tight around his skull, meet resistance, and then crumble beneath her bite.  One down.  As quickly as she could, she leapt forward again, setting upon a second man.  This one she did not kill instantly.  Instead, she latched her jaws around his weapon (in turn, catching her hand and arm in the process) and ripping it from his body.  Two down.  Human prey was sensitive to pain.  She would finish him later, but for now, he was worthless.  


    The third man was caught in a touch position.  Fire at the man or fire at the beast.  He could not take his eyes from the man without losing, however, he knew the animal was ripping his companions arm off and now turning her glance to him.  Her fired at the man once more and the wolf sprang on him.  Jowls closed on his right shoulder and the wolf's hind foot pierced the protective vest he was wearing.  Flexing her hind leg, the animal eviscerated him.  She released her grip and spun around, clearly pissed that bullets had pierced her back by the other gunmen.  Her former prey would die or be put to death by her man.  He was no longer a threat.  Three down.  


    She turned to see two men now.  One dead from a gunshot wound to the head (obviously Push has ended him when the ruckus began) and one on his knees trying to scramble from more gunshot wounds.  The sixth man was just watching her, his gun trained on her in case she moved.  The wolf sized up the situation.  Crotching down, she lay low, her belly to the concrete floor.  Her sable fur started to shirt, started to change and mold itself to the darkened grey color of a stained floor.  She was a mountain of a wolf, obviously not going to be invisible to the naked eye, but still the men looked her over with a certain curiosity for a moment.  


    It was when she stopped growling for a moment that one spoke, [npc] The hell?[/npc] was all he managed before the wolf was set back into motion.  Claws scarped the blood stained floor as she hurled herself on the man would was struggling to assemble his weapon.  He reacted as primal as only a dying man would and screamed in horror as he saw a giant animal come to claim him.  His scream was cut off as Suri tore his throat open and ravaged his blood.  Five Down.  


    The last man looked at her.  he knew she was fast and unpredictable.  Shouting to Push, he pleaded, [npc] Shoot it!  SHOOT IT!![/npc] but no help would come.  It was in these moments when a human scrambled to remember their happiest thoughts and right all their wrongs.  When they would beg God to spare them this one last time and they would change their ways.  He had watched as this monster murdered his comrades in the most horrific ways… and now it was looking at him.  


    For a moment they paused and stared at one another… but only long enough for the wolf to register the movement of his hand as he started to pull the trigger.  She charged towards him and felt the pain a split second after the smell of gunpowder hit her nose.  His bullet had shattered into her cheek bone and exited the lower jaw on the opposite side… but it was not enough to save him.  He was dead, neck broke, spine severed, before his bodyweight hit the floor from impact.  Six. 


    With her threads diminished, the living ones had been fatally wounded by Push.  the werewolf snorted and surveyed the empty room now.  Bloody paw prints would be the evidence that authorities could confirm this was a werewolf and not a sick individual.  The wolf walked a circle around her pool of blood and them lifted her head to the sky and sang a mournful, painful hymn of victory.  


    At the final note she dropped herself to her belly and slowly, lightly, rubbed her injured cheek with her own paw.  It had hurt but it would not end her.  She would heal soon enough, but for now, the sting needed to settle.  She needed to move.  Picking herself up again, the she-wolf trailed the scent of the human who she had come here for.  She was no longer looking for blood nor hunger, but, as a good dog does for its master, she needed to check.  Just to see.  


    Battered and bruised, but never beaten, the reigning alpha wolf started to trail the Bakkhos bandits.  

    Link to comment

    Suri tore into the bastards with her customary zeal, and Push was busy making sure that his people were well on their way out the door by the time she got into a groove. Push hadn't counted any silver weapons on the men, and not many had the means he had - or the paranoia - to carry silver in New York, even on a moon. ARMA and the Vanguard had done a good job driving the wolves out of the city in the last several years, and if the rumors he'd been collecting were accurate, there were more than a few packs or lone wolves vying for dominance over the territory the armed and empowered humans hadn't already denied to them. He wondered if Suri had been a part of that mess...

    Well, it didn't bear thinking on. Clearly whatever had happened, she had survived. And ordinary weapons of that caliber fired so... wildly did not have much of a chance of doing her serious damage. He bristled on the inside at the idea of leaving her to the fight, but it wasn't safe for him, either. Bond or not, she was a wild animal right now, and one that could take his head off with a swipe. His ability to survive her rampages had hinged on his ability to stay the fuck out of her way, and on occasion to respond to her attempts on his life with rather more firepower than he was himself carrying. The idea of resorting to silver against her didn't sit well with him, either.

    As he was leaving though, a desperate hand moved to grab at his boot.

    [npc]Please don't... oh god...[/npc] The man started to plead, but when Push's eyes found him, and he realized who it was, the man blanched. It was the owner... bleeding badly from his bullet wound, but alive. He'd dragged himself away when Suri entered... Push said nothing, but grabbed the man by the collar and the back of his shirt, and dragged him out. The night wasn't going to be a total loss.

    It took him a moment to get through to the B team. [push]Abort. You heard me. Mission is handled, regroup as planned.[/push] The remaining pair from A team looked up at him in awe as he came around the corner, not only un-killed by the wolf, but dragging with him their main target. Luck, partly... but it never hurt to add to his legend a bit. He could have cared less, but the more stories people told, the less anyone wanted to challenge him, and by extent the Family. Of course, there were cases like tonight.. panicked idiots. But that was, perhaps, unavoidable.

    Push unceremoniously dumped Push in front of the two criminals. [push]Get him to the truck. Do something about his leg.[/push]

    [npc]What about you, I mean-[/npc]

    [push]There have been enough amateur fuckups tonight. Go.[/push] he said sharply. Perhaps the two didn't deserve it. They had survived, whether by luck or skill. But he had better things to do. When Suri pushed aside the heavy doors out of the club, Push would be standing there in the hall, stainless steel revolver with its payload of $200 bullets inside held down low at his side.

    [push]It's good to see you, Suri.[/push] he said quietly. Push rarely spoke above the minimum volume necessary to be heard - for the wolf, that was very quietly indeed. One way or another, he needed to make sure she didn't go after the others before they could drive off. Had to stall the wolf... then keep an eye on her until she changed back. He wasn't letting her out of his sight. Even if that meant playing a bit of chicken with the wolf.

    Link to comment
    Guest Suri Creed
    Outside was much more freeing than inside the confined space of the club.  Out here, the air was cold and visible as the wolf exhaled.  Snow had started to flutter and a few flakes found themselves landing against sable fur.  They only lasted a second before the sheer heat of the animal melted them.  Snow was good… it would wash the blood from her.  The white power would cleanse her red sins in this city.  


    The animal lumbered into the back alley behind the street.  At first, she paid no real attention to anyone but herself.  Sitting on her haunches, the wolf took in deep breaths as if trying to gather thoughts.  Really there was nothing of the sort, only the animal getting a sense of direction from the smells in the area.  There was blood, but that was her own scent, and gunpowder.  The scent of snow and cold filled her nostrils along with the warm, familiar aroma of something she'd lost.  


    Dropping to all fours, the wolf positioned herself on her belly.  Unalarmed by the scenery around her, the animal drew it's front paw to her teeth and begin chewing a bullet out of her foot.  She was peppered with lead all over and the pain was mixing with the freezing air.  The hole in her muzzle and lower jaw smarted, but this was a tough old beast.  It would heal in time.  


    She mostly likely would of ended the nightmare here, fulfilling her kill quota and chewing ammo out of her paws, however, the sound of an engine starting startled the beast.  Doors closed and the gas propelled the vehicle forward.  It was a known fact that dogs like to chase cars… it was a lesser known fact that werewolves did the same.  Then again, when a werewolf chased a car, there were very few survivors that could warn others.  As ADHD as they come, the alpha dog could not contain herself.  


    Growling lightly, she pricked her ears forward and slowly started to rise.  As the van pulled away, the wolf took a few steps towards it in anticipation.  It would take a second for the tires to grip the road and the engine to accelerate… but then the chase would consume her.  


    Lifting her head high, she called to her mother luna, releasing the werewolf's war cry.  Snapping her head back to the van, the animal could only see bright lights as the breaks flashed and then disappeared.  It was moving.  Taking a step forward, she now saw that there was something moving… something else. 


    Golden eyes shifted to the loan figure in the street.  Pinning her ears back, the werewolf did something unusual for this type of monster.  Instead of growling and lunging for the kill… it barked.  Four sudden, sharp, warning barks escaped her mouth as she threatened the man in the street.  Onlookers would watch in wonder as the wolf did not charge.  It did not back down, but there was no prey drive at the moment.  She was openly warning him and for the ambushing beast, this was something very odd indeed. 


    The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and every muscle in her body looked ready to pounce on her prey… but the wolf only barked, like a dog behind a fence. 

    Link to comment

    Push let out a slow breath as the SUV pulled away. She'd have a hard time catching it if they put some distance between her and them before she started. And he was still there... still there to get in the way, at least. When she emerged, he stood fast, watching her coat shift in the night as she took up a spot. Perhaps she didn't like the vehicle getting away. But at the very least... seeing him seemed to have given her some measure of pause. The MP7 hung now on a sling over his shoulder, and he pulled the P220 back out then, standing with both weapons ready for the moment, wondering...

    But she didn't move. Neither did he. Until she barked out, sharp... a werewolf calling a warning. It wasn't something you got often. [push]I appreciate that.[/push] he replied, letting out a slow breath. It was hard to say at this point what the best thing to do was. If she thought him trouble, and he stood his ground, she might be wary of coming after him. And the silver rounds in his revolver would give some bite to his claim. He thought the wolf might remember that. But, again, Suri dealing with a silver wound might not make for the best reunion, even if one alone was unlikely to do her any permanent harm.

    It was a strange reality, when you had to think through the logistics of shooting your girlfriend. Stranger still when the actual reunion wasn't possible because she was some eight hundred pounds of sheer uncut murder at the moment. She'd have to come find him in the morning... assuming she wanted to. He wanted to believe she did, but after all this time... it was hard to say if she intended to come back at all. Perhaps the woman had no intention of doing so, it was just the wolf's ranging and hunting that had brought her back to the city. He couldn't say.

    He counted down the time all the same... waiting until the SUV had time to get down the street, turn out of sight, before he took a step back. His eyes never left hers, his posture never slunk. He was not submitting, not making prey of himself, but he was leaving. He had no intention of fighting for this ground. Hopefully the wolf would at least understand that.

    Link to comment


    This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.


    • RESONANCE - 18+ 3/3/3

      • A modern/fantasy, intermediate+ collaborative writer's rp. Caters to an experienced player base (25+) with a slower, more relaxed pace.

      • 41f3d9eb35f930d5dc44ad8ade983b8e.jpg   6d8f5289ec09a7848237ad4fd3a06e3f.jpg   007fff0d107209cabc4ba334e56e593d.png
        8bcb54940bfd412123dc5bf8b88660b8.gif   0524927e32365acf2423cae0ea7b74f1.png  360d172315c70289fec9fc00324ae36c.gif
    • Create New...