Jump to content
SITE NEWS
  • EXCITING NEW PLOTS COMING SOON, LOOK FOR UPCOMING POSTS IN THE PLOTTING AREA THAT WILL HAVE AN OPPORTUNITY FOR ALL ON THE SITE TO JOIN!!
  • Curious is the Cat


    Recommended Posts

    July 31st, late afternoon

    Pharo Headquarters, Shifting Clouds Tattoo Studio

     

     

     

     

    Grin wide, he handed off the box.  The damn thing creeped him out.  There were few things that creeped him out in his constant gophering for Pharo.  Zombies, meh.  Weird creatures, sometimes bugged him. Relics shaped like spiders?  That could never be good in a million years, especially since he had to carry them in a backpack on his bike through the back country to get them back to Pharo headquarters.  What if it woke up or something? Jumped to life and did the face-hugger shit.

     

    Bleh.  Good riddance.

     

    Nodding, he headed home.  Absolutely filthy, some blood smeared on his chin he was pretty sure wasn’t his, he slung the shotgun on his back and tied down his now pseudo-empty backpack.  He left the machete on his thigh.  North was always a bit of a crapshoot.  Zombie territory, among other things.  This had been a tough gig.

     

    Which was why he’d kept a bit for himself.  He knew it was a big no-no, but he needed to figure out exactly what it was first before he turned it over.  Sure, he’d been reprimanded before.  What they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.  He was pretty sure.  Just needed a place to stash it and get it to his local go-to for weird things Pharo didn’t specifically ask for.  He couldn’t be seen in those places.

     

    He had a lead on that.

     

    He was halfway there before he finished his thought process, parking and stepping into the tattoo studio.  Realizing only after, he probably looked like he was about to rob the place.  Dammit Boone.  Hands stuffed in his pockets, nonchalantly perusing over the look books and waiting until the man was available to talk.  He had been with buddies for tattoos, he knew some didn’t like to be bothered.  Himself?  Had never been able to get one with his most wonderful new abilities courtesy of the end of the world.

     

    So he waited, and then sat, shifting slightly to accommodate the machete.

     

    [boone]Drive a bike, people steal my stuff,[/boone]  he commented with a dopey smile to explain his weapons, completely forgetting not to bother the man.

     

    Waiting patiently.

    Link to comment
    He glanced up briefly from his work as the man walked in, nodding his head in greeting before bending back down over his drafting table. "Be with you in just a minute, mate," he said with a light Irish brogue. It wasn't that he was actually drawing anything. He'd been staring at the blank piece of paper for over an hour now, trying to figure out exactly where to start. It didn't happen often that he was at a loss as to what to draw, and it was frustrating him. So much so that rather than deal with the potential customer that had just walked into his shop, he was trying to at least get -something- down on paper.

     

    Kelan frowned down at the paper as the man sat down. "Careful not to scratch the leather with your blade, friend," he said without looking up. Maybe... just maybe... yes. He had it, finally. A worn and battered pen that had clearly seen better days flew across the the white surface, criss-crossing back and forth in thick, bold lines here, thin delicate ones there. Almost as quickly as he'd started, he reverently set the pen back down on the edge of his work surface, nodding slowly as he examined his work. Whenever she came back to inspect it, the customer who had ordered it was going to be quite pleased with it, he thought.

     

    Having completed what he set out to do, Kelan straightened up in his chair and leaned back, his right hand reaching behind him and seemingly scratching his back. In reality though, he was lifting up his shirt, exposing the pistol he carried to the open air behind him so that it was easily accessible if it needed to be.

     

    "Aye, though they tend to do that regardless of what you drive. Now then, laddy, whay can I do for you?" Kelan's right arm draped over the back of his artists chair, hand not far from the pistol, throwing a foot over the opposite knee as he looked over the man who decided to intrude on his solitude. Though Kelan supposed it was his own fault, since he hadn't locked the door to the shop when he came in to work on the commission.

    Link to comment

    "Be with you in just a minute, mate,"

     

    An Irish brogue, the sound of it brought a smirk.  Ma was Irish, owned a damn pub.  He'd grown up in a damn pub.  Nod was quiet, back of his hand getting rid of the grime on his chin.  He was aware of everything, he had to be.  Some people were badasses, very few could take care of themselves beyond the confines of the city.  Keen eyes had swept over the place, the man, soaking in the brogue and anything else he could before the conversation began.

     

    "Careful not to scratch the leather with your blade, friend,"

     

    [boone]Noted.[/boone]  the artist's frown was also noted.  There was no way though he would have left his lucky machete on his bike, watching a sudden flurry of motion from the man’s hand as something seemed to click within his brain.  He clipped it tighter into the sheath, blade completely into the soft leather of its protective cover.

     

    Not a thing went unnoticed.  Was the guy armed?  Probably.  The Pharo gopher had walked in beat to hell and holding weapons.  It wasn’t unusual for this new world, but the guy was by himself and the hour was creeping on late.

     

    "Now then, laddy, whay can I do for you?"

     

    The man’s body language was suddenly intently on him.  Eyes pulled from the artwork around the place, ready for business.  It was always a bit of finesse when approaching someone about things that weren’t exactly legal, or at the very least not the storefront they put forth to the world.

     

    [boone]Wish I could get a tattoo,[/boone] he was a bit cryptic, eyes went back to the walls, appreciating  [boone]Strange things happened, sure as hell like everyone else.  Tried once, broke the man’s machine... my skin's a bit different.  Felt like shit because I know how specialized they are to each artist.[/boone]

     

    Pause was long.

     

    [boone]You mind if I lock the door?  Conversation isn’t exactly for ears other than yours.  Betty's not loaded.[/boone]  he stood and pulled the shotgun off his shoulder, setting it next to the door as he clutched the bag of precious cargo. [boone]Name's Boone. call me "Paddy".  I’m not a bullshitter… I can’t risk this conversation on other ears.[/boone]

     

    Fingers lingered on the lock, watching the floor and waiting for a signal.  Either the man was what he’d heard and would want to hear him out, or… tell him to fuck off.  He wouldn’t take it personally, had been told much, much worse.

    Link to comment
    • 3 weeks later...
    The slight raising of an eyebrow, and a puzzled look briefly crossed his face when the man mentioned his skin breaking a tattooing machine. Kelan had never heard of something like that happening, but then again, since the Nevus event, stranger things were on the prowl.

     

    As Boone crossed to the door and indly fingered the lock, asking if he could prevent other people from entering into a more private conversation. Just who, exactly, was this Boone character, anyways, Kelan wondered silently, and where in the seven hells did he get the idea that he could just waltz in here and start in on something without even dropping any references? Fucking amateurs, he muttered quietly as his head nodded almost imperceptibly. "Lock it."

     

    Seeing no need to be coy about things with Boone's shotgun beside the door now, Kelan casually pulled the customized 1911 pistol from the back of his waistband and set it down on the drafting able. "Now, since you clearly at least know of me, talk fast, Boone. Who sent you my way, and what is it exactly that you think I do, besides tattoos?" He purposefully used the man's name rather than his sobriquet, watching his face and body language intently to see what kind of reaction was going to come of it.

     

    He glanced up at the large digital clock that hung over the door. "I'd estimate that you've got roughly five minutes before someone wanders by and tries to come in for a tattoo, so you might want to be quick about that, laddy. And flip the switch beside the door. It'll turn off the sign out front." Kelan leaned back slightly in the chair, fingers idly stroking the grips of his pistol while he waited for the man to take care of those few simple tasks. Hopefully Boone would be relatively quick about getting to the point, though most of the time when people state dthat they didn't bullshit around, it typically meant that they did in fact have a habit of dancing around the topic and trying to drag it out as long as possible. If he tries to drag the issue out, Kelan thought, I'll just see about shooting him in the leg. That should speed things up a bit, I would think.

    Link to comment

    He almost walked out.  Almost.  He had to remember that most of the world didn’t deal with the bullshit he had to on a daily basis.  Decapitating zombies, killing all sorts of vicious monsters of every sort.  People living in a relatively normal environment by today’s standards had their own point of reference.  People walking in with a machete and a shotgun with blood on their chin he guessed wasn’t something usual in their daily lives.  To him, it was normal.

     

    He stayed despite his better judgement.  This whole thing was against his better judgement.  He was supposed to turn everything over.  Bad.  He was being bad.  His curiosity was getting the better of him.  So many things had been gophered to Pharo headquarters, many by the skin of his teeth.  He was anxious to finally see what he was risking his life to bring home for someone else.  Were they making money off this stuff?  Doubtful.  Just collecting like packrats.  Like a museum, for the sake of knowledge that would be nothing but secret.

     

    "Lock it."

     

    Fingers flicked the lock closed, about to get down to business when his own game plan was demanded from him first.  Did the man think he’d never done this shit before?  Ah well.  Again, that difference of experience thing.  He rubbed at the rest of the blood on his chin, listening, brow quirking with a rather annoyed expression and waiting for the owner's need to say his peace to end.  Boone and not a preferred Paddy.  Pfft.  He was trying to piss him off.  He checked his arms for any more blood before he spoke, switching off the ‘open’ sign.  A good boy, doing what he was told even though now aware of the gun he knew was most likely on the guy’s person all along.

     

    [boone]I’m immune to tattoos and bullets.  The Superman thing.  Just saying.  Bullets aren't cheap.[/boone]

     

    He picked up the shotgun and checked to make sure the chamber was empty before slinging it into the holster on his back.

     

    [boone]Nobody sent me, I sent myself.  I follow packages across the city that go under the radar because I usually have to intercept or go after them if they get past me- which sucks by the way.  I know most of the networks and follow them back like an electrical circuit to the source as I intercept.  I’ve heard your name in passing, I never make contact with the network.  I just steal their fun shit.[/boone]

     

    Arms crossed, eyes cast to the side at someone that walked past the shop.

     

    [boone]I need something hid for a bit, then out of the city.  Pay is amazing.  Up to the job or do I need to fuck off?  Won’t be offended if I have to fuck off, I can go home and shower off this zombie funk.[/boone]

    Link to comment

    Archived

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

    • CURRENT RESONANCE DATE

    • 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.
    • HELP GETTING STARTED? TRY A CANON!

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