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Author Topic: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline  (Read 124 times)

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Offline Lion

Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« on: August 23, 2017, 12:02:21 AM »
{Open by Request}

The job would be simple. Easy money. Credits to buy him supplies for a week. Or a gun. That...was a little more difficult to obtain. The whip at his side usually seemed little more than ornamental. It was an old Edani wrangling whip, used mainly for taking down steer or runaways by those in the trafficking business. The whip itself was sixt feet long with a barbed popper at the tip. The barb belonged to his father. The electrical switch was his own touch. A shock ripe enough to burn the hair right off your nuts.

Not that he knew from experience. Not at all.

Okay, maybe that one time. It was just a test phase.

Nero internally shuddered and tilted his head, heterochromatic eyes flickering to the neon signs around him. Directories leading to and from here and there. Docking station 34b-2 was where he was at right now, and up ahead of him was a patrol walking just right out of the doorway. The job was simple.

Get to the drop location, extract the package and take it to its destination. That package happened to be sitting in a jail cell, and needed to not be in a jail cell. It wasn’t that hard, and anyone worth their salt in the transportation business could see that. Libra station, though, not a lot of folks were up for that. Space station far too big and rigid to fit in your pocket, and it was easy to get lost if you weren’t careful. Nero was never careful, but then, what couldya do?

He shrugged out of the jacket he was wearing, the little AV logo on the left breast embroidered in raw and ruined leather. It was an old jacket and the insignia meant nothing. Where did he get it, anyway? Probably nicked it from some store when passing through Tynova. He didn’t like spending too much time in one place. Stagnancy made his palms itch, and his heart rate pick up.

He was getting antsy, just standing here, casually beside the docking port entrance and he wiggled his toes loosely in his boots. The palms were starting to itch and he glanced up at the Libra station patrol walking through the docking entrance. They were huge, a pair of them, burly and easily dwarfing Nero by a full head. Size didn’t matter to him.

And he eyed the weapons they had on their holsters, and the batons beside them. Thooose would be a bit of a problem. But then that was the point wasn’t it. Nero wiggled his toes again, taking in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders again. The duster of his jacket was off and so were his pants in layered shirt. As he stepped forward into the LED lighting, Nero held his breath, standing there in nothing more than his loosely tied boots that rose up mid-shin, the belt of his whip holstered around his shoulders and waist, and boxer briefs with the phrase “Start Fire Here” bedazzled on his ass.

“Game face. Game face.” It was now or never.

“Good Morning, Libra Station!” he cried out as he casually walked over to those patrol units, in their brazen blue jump suits and held his arms above his head. “Good morning, Officers what a lovely day we’re having, ain’t it. Lovely day to be alive. Lovely day to get in all this fresh recycled oxygen into my lungs. Love it. It’s great! Fanfuckingtastic!”

“Move along sir, this is not an area for civilians to be running around. Much less tourists in their fucking underwear!

“I would, buuut, ya see, I kinda got lost. And lost my clothes on the way here. This place is fucking huge.”

“Get lost! We’re on duty here.”

“Looklooklooklooklooklook, I’m not trying to be a nuisance, but I mean, you’re not very good soldiers if you can’t even help a guy find his pants. Some shithole this turned out to be!” Nero grinned at the pair as one scowled and the other one glanced at his partner.

“Last warning, asswipe. Get the fuck out of here.”

A lick of his lips and he could feel his heart rate slowing down, just enough to push out everything that was kind of clouding his mind. “Come on. Show a little mercy! These aren’t even my shorts! I found them in a bar bathroom. No wonder your asses lost the war.” Nero sneered and threw his head back in a cackle, the little slits at the edges of his mouth opening a little wider.

“What the fuck did you say? Scum like you comin’ in here, talking big like that,” the soldier that was scowling stepped forward towering over Nero. “You got something on your mind.”

“You need a breath mint because, whoa, hot dogs at 7 AM. Damn!” And with that Nero rolled his wrist back and shot the base of his palm into the patrol’s nose. A shower of blood spewed out and rained on Nero’s arm, leaving the guy reeling backwards. Too close for comfort that one.

The second man wasted no time and pulled out the security baton from his belt and crashed it against Nero’s ribs. “HOLY SHIT! GAME FACE!” Nero made a high-pitched noise and staggered sideways. Two against one was hardly fair. Even if he was holding back. The baton came side winding again, this time buzzing with a mad electric spark that burn his flesh and made Nero suddenly smell burnt toast.

Nero fell this time and rolled hard to the side. He groaned, those shocks reverberating something mad. He groaned and held his gut. “Is that all you got!?” he hissed, his face red, and trying not to cackle as Mr. Bloody Nose recovered and kicked him firmly in the gut. Nero grabbed his ankle when he tried it a second time and pulled him over his torso, exposing his groin and Nero slammed his fist upward with all he had, cracking knuckles against those family jewels.

Game face! Game face!” Another shock from a baton and Nero yelped, squirming on the ground as they plucked him up and whipped him around to place restraints on him.

“Drag this stupid fuck right off to a goddamn cell! Ugh, my fucking nose! You’re gonna pay for that one, dickhead!” The larger of the two growled, and pulled up the com on his shoulder, calling in the disturbance.  "Assault on a patrolman. And lookie here.  Armed too!" He laughed and yanked the whip from the holster on the side. "You're gonna have a great time."

Yup, the job was simple all right. So far, so good.
« Last Edit: August 23, 2017, 12:30:31 AM by Lion »

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Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #1 on: October 06, 2017, 02:53:12 PM »
The light shining in through his cell highlighted every speck of dust and particle as it floated through the air. As much of a clean place as the Libra was, even they couldn't keep out all the trash that slipped in.

Was that a hair follicle floating around up there? Gross.

Kirkley blew the hair away where he lay in the strangest position on the floor of his cell, bored out of his fuckin' mind. The majority of his body weight was on his shoulders and upper back, everything below his waist elevated upwards with his legs crossed at the ankle and braced against the wall. His hands were laced behind his head and the jumpsuit he wore, courtesy of the prison, was itchy as hell.

Turns out this little smuggling mission hadn't gone as planned.

Libra was one of the hardest places to get anything illegal in and out of, even more tightly secured than Aedolis. He'd done it a couple of times before, but this time there had been a rat, and he'd been caught. He went into custody without a fight--the more amicable you stayed, the easier a time you'd have getting out later, after all. Probably.

He closed his eyes; he'd been able to send a recording of the arrest to Ain, because it'd been for her he was running the stuff, her business. And she had every right to know that A he had failed and B shit was going down. Usually she trusted him to get out of his own messes, because the less connection she had with trouble, the better, but this time might be different. He hoped.

Because the cells on the Libra were right tight and hell to get out of. He could do it if he waited around long enough, but he also didn't want to wait around forever--the punishment for the items he'd tried to bring in would be pretty severe.

There was a loud clanging sound and he blinked, pulled out of his thoughts as he glanced out of the barred plexiglass cell door to the rows of inmates outside in their own cells. He was on the third floor, and in the center of the cell area on the first floor was the entrance to get in.

He rolled off to his side, crawling up to sit on the floor by the door as he watched some officers bring a new criminal in, the hooting and hollaring from the other inmates unmistakable. Well, cell next to his was empty, looks like he might be getting a new neighbor.

Offline Lion

Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #2 on: October 06, 2017, 04:54:59 PM »
See, what most folks almost never took into consideration was the mere fact that even the best laid out plans could have a few um, unforeseen complications that could totally make them go off the rails. You couldn't always plan for every variable. You had to sometimes fly by the seat of your pants and make the best of what you were given. Make a wild fire out of toothpaste and a soda can and flaring heat at at your back.

Or in Nero's case, around his ribs, his face, his balls, and his gut. Clearly none of that was planned, but he had an inkling he'd either get baton-ed or his ass kicked. He was wagering on the latter, because goddamn did those shocks hurt like hell. Obviously you couldn't wrangle a badarus without getting stomped on a few times, and if worse came to worse, you wouldn't be wrangling anymore if you got gored through with those antlers. 8/10 normally you'd just lose a few fingers.

Nero still had all his fingers, and his boots, and his underwear on. And as he was ushered on through to processing, the cuffs digging into his wrists, he was starting to wonder if taking off all his clothes had been a good idea. Hm, chances were balls and Nero was content to make things up as he went.

"Armed and Assault on an Officer. And very under dressed," he heard the guard behind him snickering as he pushed him on through.  "You're a fucking idiot. That's 10 years easy. Better get used to those bars, bub."

Nero had been favoring those cuffs, feeling the metal and knowing full well he could probably just snap them if he twisted them right. Metal wasn't invincible. And neither was he. Not to mention the whole point of coming here was to get arrested in the first place. He wouldn't get anywhere by causing a ruckus in the jailhouse.

Someone important had messed up, and he heard through the grapevine that someone even more important this guy needed a bit of rescuing. He couldn't remember exactly what the name was but he had a description. Jerky something or other. Some kind of meat product. The photo had been embedded into his mind and that's where it stayed.

In the meantime, Nero remembered why he'd taken all his clothes off. Where he'd tucked them away, they were safe. Safer. But here, he'd lose his jacket, and his pants and his shit anyway. He'd only needed his whip. And like he'd told the guard that had gotten him through to processing, "I'll be getting that back."

Ain, yeah, she was the one that wanted this Jerky guy out of his place. Easy job. So far everything was going according to plan.  And that plan pretty much solidified itself when he heard the door locking behind him. "Oh, got myself my very own bed and a penholder! My my, officer! This is more than a poor boy can handle. It sure beats sleeping under bar counters and rail cars. Oh boy!"

The sheer excitement with which he said it was a mix between mockery and absolute enjoyment. Nero caught the guard turning around and scowling amidst the yips and howls. Nero snorted and pressed his face to the plexiglass bars. Not metal. Hmm, tougher. Magnetic locks for sure. Most jails had them. And it seemed these for sure were no different. Plexiglass with metal casing, rolling into slots into the frame.

"I love the smell of burnt hot dogs in the morning," he sighed and tilted his head toward his neighbor in the bars. Hm...he looked a lot like beef jerky. "What are you in for?"

Nero was still in his underwear although he had his bundled jumpsuit in his arms. He wasn't going to be needing that. He wouldn't be in here for very long.

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Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #3 on: October 06, 2017, 11:14:53 PM »
Kirkley arched an eyebrow as he watched the goings-on downstairs; he couldn't really peer far enough over the edge of the walkway outside his cell to see what the guy looked like down there, he just saw a flash of pink, which also caught his attention. Not too many dudes had the balls for pink hair--he'd done it once, himself. Thought it looked pretty with his skin tone.

But it's apparently hard for people to take you seriously when you have pink hair, so... That got changed.

He sat back a little, one arm resting on a propped up knee, the other hand behind him on the cement supporting some of his weight as he waited for the guards to bring the new inmate up to the third level. He could hear them talking about something, but the shouting of the idiots in cells lining the walls made it impossible to discern exactly what was being said.

See, this was why he hated prisons. Most of the people in them were dumber than a box of rocks, and the only smart ones were usually evil as hell and to be avoided at all costs. It wasn't like Kirkley hadn't served time in them before, of course--he'd done his time for plenty of years, sometimes just not caring enough to bother getting himself out, sometimes using it for its actual intended purpose of helping him reform and be a better person when he got back into the real world. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. He just hadn't expected to end up in one so soon, right now of all times.

He sat up a bit better and stretched, just as the guards walked past and he paused mid-stretch to eye the newbie up and down; he was... Pretty much naked.

Except for a pair of bedazzled briefs and some boots. At least he was something pretty to look at. Toned, the hair color worked for him pretty well, he was just a tad bit short. His commentary earned a snort from Kirkley, who smirked and shook his head--at least he had a sense of humor. Maybe he and new neighbor could be ~*friends*~. He was let into his cell and Kirkley sighed a little, leaning back and wondering just how long he'd be in here for when the guy spoke up; he looked over at him, arching a brow with a bit of suspicion dancing in that one functioning eye of his.

"Smuggling in illegal shit. Got ratted out." He shrugged, not hiding that he was obviously looking the guy over before he tilted his head, meeting the stranger's gaze once more. "Name's Kirkley. How about you? Nice choice in underwear I'd say." He grinned, nodding at the man with a chuckle in his voice. Bet his story would be interesting as hell.

Offline Lion

Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #4 on: October 07, 2017, 04:42:05 PM »
Beef jerky was a pretty big guy. He looked a lot like he worked out; or had the blessing of good genes to make a brute looking sonvubitch so goddamn big. Nero considered it in case he had to - not that he was betting on it - but he could probably take him. Probably. Hm, but he wasn't here to start a fight. He had to find this Jerky fellow and take him out of here because no one wanted to stay in prison.  It was boring as all hell and you had to protect your ass or dedicate it to one dick in particular if you couldn't protect yourself.

Nero could defend himself just fine. But sometimes if a fist was flying his way, he just let it land. A good punch the face was just as effective as twelve cups of coffee. Not that caffeine ever seemed to do anything for him anymore.

In the meantime he met Beefy's gaze and had a small smirk playing on his lips. He was used to other folks giving him a once over. Visual representation being what it was, Nero wasn't a large guy. Stocky, but toned and lean. So he wanted something to look at did he? Nero snorted and raised his arms above his head, crossing them and doing mock bodybuilder poses to deepen the grooves of his muscles in that harsh lighting.

He laughed and even he couldn't couldn't keep a straight face for long. Nero shook his head and wiggled his left foot out of his boot. Why they didn't take his shoes, he didn't know but he was pretty glad they didn't. He had floss in there.

"Ratted out? Well, ain't that a bitch," he said with a firm frown, but the smile was still playing on the corner of his lips. "I hate when that happens. You're hard at work, then some guy decides that he got a better deal elsewhere." Kirkley... Kirkley. Sounded familiar. Hmm. Sounded a lot like Jerky. And the description seemed pretty close.

"Nero. I guess those Libra boys don't like being teased about their part in that great big space jam that came from the Edani War. They're just blowing smoke though, said I assaulted an officer and was armed. Well of course I'm armed, I've got two of them!"  Nero wiggled his right then his left. "I barely touched the guy. I mean if you think about it, he got blood all over me."

"But I digress." Nero shrugged and rummaged through his clothing, taking his boot off and plying at the sole. He pressed a small button and inside a small compartment came out, a tiny roll of floss. "So, you're a Kirkley? Hm, Pretty sure your name was Jerky. But that's okay beefcake. You see, I'm glad they brought here in such a close proximity here. Because it makes my job a whole lot easier. You see, we have a mutual friend, I think, and now that I've found you we can get started."

Nero smiled and with that began to floss his teeth.

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Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #5 on: October 08, 2017, 01:00:11 PM »
Kirkley would have been a fool if he tried to lie and say that flexing didn't catch his eye. His eyebrows raised just a smidgen, something in that smirk telling far too well the thought in his mind that he wouldn't mind letting his hands wander over every sharp curve and dip in those muscles. He briefly wondered what his skin tasted like.

Guy was cute. He couldn't help it that he was cute.

He tilted his head, watching this new stranger take off his boot, eyebrows still raised. What an interesting fellow! There was something in the tone of his voice and the cadence of his words that hinted he might just be missing a few marbles, but not enough to be called completely bonkers just yet. He was certainly amusing; of all the things to put in a hidden compartment in your shoe, Kirkley would not have picked floss.

His name was Nero, and it was definitely fitting. Kirkley let out a laugh when he indirectly told of how he got locked up in there himself. Teasing and getting in a physical fight with guards? Now that was unusual, if not a bit crazy, but hey, Kirkley could dig it. Especially when it seemed that this guy had more plans than just getting locked up, and Kirkley sat up a bit and leaned forward with interest in his eyes. The light reflected off of the one working one and made it flash briefly, like a cat or a dog's at night when you shine a flashlight at them. His grin showed off his canines while Nero called him beefcake.

He hadn't quite been able to put his finger on it but there was just a little something about this guy being so confident and comfortable in this prison here that made Kirkley think he had something up his sleeve, and boy was it satisfying to know his hunch had been correct. Ain wasn't about to leave her best friend hanging, it seemed. This was definitely an interesting fellow though for her to hire for the job--though that did explain why he was hired. She had probably been just as intrigued and amused by him as Kirkley was now.

"Call me whatever you want Boxer Boy, if you can help spring me out of here you'll have more than just your employer's gratitude."

He could take that in whatever context he wanted, Kirkley did not care in the slightest. He just wanted in on this funtime adventure and he wanted in on it right now. The real question was what this guy had in his head for a plan, assuming he had one.

"Tell me what you need and I just might be able to do it for ya, assuming you have a plan. I just hope it includes bashing some heads in on our way out."

Offline Lion

Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #6 on: October 08, 2017, 02:48:29 PM »
If you had access to basic amenities there was no reason to have fucked up teeth, not even in prison. So Nero had taken the opportunity to take the beef he still had between his two upper molars out and the small glint of slightly pointy fangs reflected in the recessed lighting. The hubs above were well done, and the shadows were null and void here in these plastic cells.

So well done it was gonna give Nero a headache if he kept staring at the light for too long. He blinked, licked his lips and when he felt the bite of the floss digging too deep into his gums he stopped, tasting the blood. Oh yeah, that's right, he was here to break out Berfkley.

He was glad the big guy didn't really think anything of him mentioning mutual friends and making jobs easier by being close. It wasn't a lie, and if Nero was going to be frank, he didn't want to have to stay in jail longer than he had to. Ten years easy, the guard had said. Ten years would pass and he'd still look no older than a day over thirty. Time became elusive in that way.

Ages aside, when most people in the smuggling business heard phrases like "Job" and "Close proximity" and "mutual friend" it tended to raise the hackles on the backs of their necks and make them real antsy. That was the usual greeting someone made when they had every intention of slicing that neck. Nope, not Nero. He only had interest in necks if he was doing the biting. Necks were really chewy that way.

Once his boot was settled back on his feet, Nero's tongue favored the cut gum, that iron-y taste of blood.

"That an offer?" he laughed, quirking a brow at Beefkley. "I admit I'm intrigued. But here's what I'm gonna need you to do. Be a good boy and sit quietly. Can you do that? Of course you can." Nero smiled and showed off those pearly whites of his, the gum still bleeding somewhat in the corner, and staining part of his teeth red.

And with that he started to scream.  Just high pitched top of his lungs deal, really good, and began rolling on the floor.  Nero could fake pain better than anybody's business. Mostly because he was getting hungry and that beef steak sandwich would only tide him over for so long. He really didn't want it to have to come down to having to check some larynxes. Nope that wouldn't be pretty at all.

Nero squealed and yelled and hollered until the other prisoners were starting to get seriously irritated. His tongue kept poking and prodding at the wounded gum, keeping it irritated until more blood came out and leaked from his lips. When the guard meandering down that hallway stopped in front of his cell he glowered and rapt his baton against the bars. "Shut that noise up! Before I shut it for you, maggot!"

Nero screamed again and spat a fat wad of blood on the ground. "It hurts so fucking bad!" he managed to get out, curling up into a ball and holding his gut.

"What fucking hurts?"

The only reply was another cry of agony and more blood coming out of his mouth.

"OH fucking shit! Louis! Open up C3-15. We got a fucking bleeder here," he called out.  And the cell was opened with a buzz and the guard, smartly, led with his baton, still electrified and Nero eyed it from the corner of his vision.

And when he was close enough, swept his leg out to drop the guard and felt that surge of hunger flare up his adrenaline. Nero wasn't always fast, but when he was, his reaction times were faster than the guards, just as he needed them to be and before he could even scream he had that floss wrapped around his neck and he was squeezing hard and when he passed out, Nero stripped him as calmly and as quietly as he could.

He was a little smaller than even Nero, but he'd fit in those clothes just fine. Once they were traded, Nero in that guard outfit and the guard in that jumpsuit they'd so lovingly given him, he checked his equipment and his shock baton. Oooh nice! It wasn't any whip, but it would do.  Nero adjusted the crotch and settled his bits down into a leg. Yeah it was too small, but it would do for now.

The guard was settled on the bed and lovingly wrapped in the blanket before Nero stepped out, strapping the helmet on. A clearing of his throat and he hollered out. "Sorry Louis, I meant C3-16, not 15."

Nero waited a minute, perhaps too long before he stood in front of Beefcake's cell.  The longest minute of his life. It wasn't going to work... It was to....

And then the buzz, and the cell door slid open. Nero curled his lips into his mouth, trying to keep himself from laughing.  "Okay big guy, nice and easy now. Be a good boy, and turn around and let me put these cuffs on you! You're being transferred today," he said softly, winking at Kirkley.

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Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #7 on: October 08, 2017, 11:13:01 PM »
Kirkley raised his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulder a bit when Nero asked for clarification if that was an offer. It could be if he wanted it to, Kirkley didn't really mind.

He stayed dutifully quiet while Nero told him to just sit and be good, and he did exactly that--though he winced when the man suddenly started screaming.

Several moments dragged past, nothing happened. He noticed some of the inmates in the other cells getting antsy, one or two yelling "Shut the fuck up!" He couldn't blame them. A minute passed, and Kirkley's sharp ears were getting irritated. Another minute passed, still nothing except more pissed off inmates.

Okay so maybe this wasn't such a good plan, Kirkley was starting to realize that maybe this guy was just one marble short of being a good getaway guy. Well, at least Ain had--

Finally, a security guard yelled up, and came up to investigate. Kirkley blinked in surprise when he saw the blood spat up from Nero's mouth, before connecting it with the floss from earlier. Okay, alright--he'd doubted too soon. He was a smart boy.

He let out a low whistle as he heard the scuffle through the wall; smart kid. He raised his eyebrows, cleaning out an ear with his pinky and shaking his head a little bit, trying to readjust to the lack of screaming which now made the prison seem far more quiet. As Nero exited, the inmates who were curious calmed down and moved on with life, nobody noticing it was a different man in the officer's uniform. Better yet, he even tricked the other guard into opening the door for him.

He smirked, catching that wink and slowly getting to his feet, turning his back to his now rescuer as the two of them got to see the real height difference there, almost a foot and a half or so. He looked back at Nero over his shoulder as his hands were cuffed. "Yes sir.~" He teased, "A little tighter if you can. I like it rough."

Hardy har har har.

With Nero's direction he stepped outside of his cell, noting that the uniform was a bit tight on Pinky there. Hopefully no one would see his hair under the hat. He got a good look around the prison as they walked, noting the guards on the other floor with his one good eye and that they were gonna have to get down to the first level for this 'transfer,' and that once they got there shit was about to get real nasty. No paperwork, no pass. Unless if this guy had already figured that far ahead, but something told Kirkley that that wasn't going to be the case.

"Mmm, six guards on each level patrolling, two in the tower in the monitor room. At least three beyond the doors you came in down there." Kirkley rolled his shoulders. "No paperwork. I can handle most of them as long as I don't get shocked too bad." He glanced over at Nero.

"Surprise attack or do we wait until they catch us first?"

Offline Lion

Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #8 on: October 09, 2017, 09:58:05 AM »
Good boy was good. Yes good. That was good and the plan was falling so nicely into place the only way that Nero could possibly describe it was well... good. Sure the suiting up was tight and he'd failed to properly wrangle in his hair into a bun as he usually did when he snugged hats onto his head. But the mauve tendrils were mostly hidden.

He dropped the visor of that fancy helmet and cuffed Kirkley nice and tight as he instructed. Couldn't think that they were half-assing this now could they? Nero wasn't here to play games. That was for later. He just didn't want to stay in prison any longer. And he wasn't going to leave without his whip.  He'd peel off his own skin if he had to in order to get it back.

He had one hand firmly on the baton and pushed BeefKirkley forward as a proper guard ought to. "Oh surprise attack. When they catch us would be good. I like smooth plans, and y'know the sooner we cause a ruckus, the more prepared they'll be when we try to head on out. So just keep still in the mean time," he nodded to him and shoved him on forward. He was huge and it was a wonder he even it through the goddamn door as they went down to the second level.

"Good day there, Stan," one of the guards called out to him, saluting and looking up at the beefcake. "Where's he going?"

"Walking down to solitary," Nero grumbled quickly, trying to keep his accent from showing through. "Real bastard this one. Just look at his ugly face!"

The other guard was way too distracted staring at Kirkley to notice "Stan" nudging him aside and hiding behind the massive prisoner and pushing him down to the second level. Ok, two more to go it seemed.  Then the front door.

"Evidence is down the main hall isn't it? Saw the two guards going down that way when I got filed in they took my whip. Not pleased. Don't they know I need that. Hmph, bastards." Nero kept the pair of them moving and remembered that having Kirkley's hands tied when they reached the main hall probably wasn't the best idea.

But as long as they didn't linger too long in one place, no one else seemed to notice that the guy from C3-16 wasn't supposed to be out of his cage. Then again neither was the one from 15. Nero let out a low slow breath when he followed the directory for evidence and undid Kirkley's cuffs once they were at the door. And on the other side of it was another guard behind a desk.

"Okay, wait until I come out. I gotta get something," he nodded to him. "Don't think prisoners belong in evidence. But if anything goes wrong, it's a code blue, got it?" Nero pushed through the door and to the guy at the desk.

"Stan? What are you doing here?"

Really? Didn't at all notice that his face was different?

"Gotta look through evidence to confirm a case," he grumbled quickly again.

The other guard squinted at him and tilted his head to try and get a better look. "You...what?  Stan, you don't work evidence. What are you really doing here?"

Oh shit. shitshitshitshit...  "I gotta collect some shit... Now you gonna let me in or not!"

The other guard moved from around the desk and saw a glimpse of mauve hair from out the end. "You're not Stan...  Stan wouldn't have such a uniform violation. Now who the fuck are you!? Present your credentials immediately."


"CODE BLUE!"  And Nero lunged forward with that shock baton aiming right for the neck.

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Re: Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
« Reply #9 on: October 11, 2017, 09:34:04 PM »
Heh. Alright fine, easy enough. He could play dumb, these guards would likely be stupid enough to fall for it. Librans were an interesting sort like that, he had to say. Quick to judge others based on where they came from, arguably worse about it than the Aedolians.

"As you wish, sir.~" He teased before he wiped that smirk from his face and did his best to look the part of the big scary brute prisoner--looking pissed that he was getting ordered around by such a smallfry, of course.

The first guard that greeted them got a fake lunge and a growling snarl as if he were some vicious beast trying to establish dominance--wasn't like he hadn't honestly played the part before. The guard flinched and jumped back, raising the stun baton threateningly and Kirkley just laughed at him. Wimps, the lot of them.

Kirkley kept silent for a moment as Nero walked them down from third to second floor, only arching an eyebrow at his commentary about the whip. Of course they'd take his whip, he--nevermind. Clearly lost a marble too many, but as long as he was somewhat functional and of sound-ish mind that was what mattered most.

"I don't usually carry weapons." He said, voice low. "Just need my clothes."

Bullets rarely phased him and most guns were too small to fit comfortably with his hands. He was better in a fist fight any day, even though his aim wasn't too shabby. The one eye thing kind of messed it up on bad days, though.

He gave Nero the slightest of nods as he lifted his head, chin held high as he waited for his retainer outside, curling his lip and snarling at a guard who kept staring at him funny, snorting when the man sheepishly averted his gaze like he was afraid Kirkley would grab his head and squeeze it between his hands like a watermelon in an alligator's jaws.

Not a bad idea, to be honest.

He watched through the window, not exactly adept at reading lips but able to tell moreso by body language that something wasn't right. He tensed a little, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the shy guard who also seemed to pick up on something, his hand slowly moving to his stun baton. Kirkley would have to be fast--


Kirkley blinked and stared dumbly at Nero through the window for a second, caught off-guard. There had not been mention of a Code Blue. He looked at the guard next to him, who looked up at him, the confusion evident on both of their faces like they expected the other had an answer.

Then Kirkley kicked him in the pelvis, pulled his hands out from behind his back and grabbed his head in his hands, throwing him over the railing. Other guards were already running over and Kirkley took care of them as well as he could with three flanking him from all sides--punch one in the face, whip around while he was stunned, grab second by the arm twist and throw him to the floor, turn around catch three's hand with stun baton inches from his face, squeeze hard bring down arm over knee SNAP turn back to number two kick him in the gut and send him flying into a wall, back to one and catch his arm, twist it behind his back put him in a headlock steal his baton, zap him and kick him over the railing to then kick down the door to the evidence office, taking a quick look before he found an evidence locker where Nero's shit supposedly was, and hopefully his own.

Electronic locks. Well, he sure as shit wasn't a hacker, but maybe... He stuck the first lock with the stun baton, set it off and the entire thing fried. Did that work?

He tried opening one of the locker doors.

Nope. Still locked. Now with no way of trying a passcode entry. Well. That was fine.

He used the butt of the baton stick and slammed it into one of the doors, denting it enough he could slip his fingers under the edge of the door and yank it open, from there the others were history, as long as Nero could keep the other guards off their backs.

Nope, nope not there, no, no, still no, nope, nada, oh hey that was a nice looking gun right there he'd just take that nobody would notice, annnddd--oh a whip.

He snatched it and turned to Nero, tossing it to him with a quick "CATCH!" Before he turned and opened the next locker and found his clothes inside. Hah. Situational irony.

Grabbing his old outfit he turned and aimed the gun, firing off shots in guards' heads left and right, all of them hitting the floor like sacks of potatoes as blood sprayed on the wall and he didn't feel a shred of remorse.

He was well over several thousand years old he hadn't felt guilty for killing a person in a really long-ass time, alright?

In the quick breather between more guards coming he stripped right then and there, tossing his jail suit in favor of his old clothing again, god did pants feel great. They weren't gonna get very far if they both walked out of here looking like prisoners, of course. He didn't know where Nero's clothes were but at least he looked semi-convincing.