They called him “Paul Cruz,” but Roy knew what he really was underneath that suave guise: a glowing ghoul with a penchant for blending in with the shadows.
What the ghoul’s true intentions were, those were hard to say. Roy had lost the evil being’s digital, money and ectoplasmic trail six weeks ago, until a sudden tip off by an anonymous caller landed him here, at this abandoned building of all places.
The directive was simple: bring this “Paul Cruz,” alive and bound to his corporeal form, to justice. Whatever that was.
But then Roy got too close to the guy.
And then- well- Roy wasn’t sure what happened next.
And Roy, his attempt to subdue “Paul Cruz” thwarted, suddenly found himself inside a burning building, engaged in a fight to the death with...who was this kid, anyway? Roy didn’t find it wholesome to ask, opting to shoot first and ask questions later; Roy instinctively called it self-defense on his part. A whole lot of good that did both of them- a stray bullet from Roy’s Browning hit a conveniently placed gas can, setting the walls alight.
Now Roy had taken cover behind an untouched, withered couch. Head bowed, he pushed a magazine into his gun and snapped it in place.
Seriously, who was this kid? Roy mentally shrugged- shoot to disarm, he supposed.
What the ghoul’s true intentions were, those were hard to say. Roy had lost the evil being’s digital, money and ectoplasmic trail six weeks ago, until a sudden tip off by an anonymous caller landed him here, at this abandoned building of all places.
The directive was simple: bring this “Paul Cruz,” alive and bound to his corporeal form, to justice. Whatever that was.
But then Roy got too close to the guy.
And then- well- Roy wasn’t sure what happened next.
And Roy, his attempt to subdue “Paul Cruz” thwarted, suddenly found himself inside a burning building, engaged in a fight to the death with...who was this kid, anyway? Roy didn’t find it wholesome to ask, opting to shoot first and ask questions later; Roy instinctively called it self-defense on his part. A whole lot of good that did both of them- a stray bullet from Roy’s Browning hit a conveniently placed gas can, setting the walls alight.
Now Roy had taken cover behind an untouched, withered couch. Head bowed, he pushed a magazine into his gun and snapped it in place.
Seriously, who was this kid? Roy mentally shrugged- shoot to disarm, he supposed.
Quinn had always hated people like this. Ones who got in his way when he tried to get a job done. It made his hands all the more dirty, and that wasn't quinn's style. He was always the in and out man. More often than not he would end his victims in one shot and be gone before anyone could understand what happened. When people got in his way though... It created one more person he had to eliminate.
Quinn ducked behind a metal cabinet. One most likely used for storing files. He peered over the edge. It was getting hot, very hot, and very quickly. Quinn was a sword specialist. But he also dabbled in guns, and such. Quinn gritted his teeth together as he pulled out a loaded glock 19. He was ready to fight his way out of this no questions asked.
Quinn ducked behind a metal cabinet. One most likely used for storing files. He peered over the edge. It was getting hot, very hot, and very quickly. Quinn was a sword specialist. But he also dabbled in guns, and such. Quinn gritted his teeth together as he pulled out a loaded glock 19. He was ready to fight his way out of this no questions asked.
At the slightest sound of the floorboards sizzling near Roy's feet, the hairy fellow leapt sideways from his cover, quickly snapping in position his Browning Hi-Power long enough to take a shot at the other.
Blam! went the gun. The hairy fellow landed on his back with a squeak! and a crackle behind the other piece of cover available to him: a red couch, which was beginning to disintegrate from the spreading fire.
He thought he heard the bullet hitting the wall. Or maybe that was the crackle of an ember's well rounded soundwave? Roy needed to ditch this kid, fast. Paul Cruz was first priority, and he wasn't going to let that freak escape again.
Blam! went the gun. The hairy fellow landed on his back with a squeak! and a crackle behind the other piece of cover available to him: a red couch, which was beginning to disintegrate from the spreading fire.
He thought he heard the bullet hitting the wall. Or maybe that was the crackle of an ember's well rounded soundwave? Roy needed to ditch this kid, fast. Paul Cruz was first priority, and he wasn't going to let that freak escape again.
"Damn, that was close. " quinn muttered to himself. He needed to get this job done. There was no way in hell he was going to let this random guy skew him up. Quinn peered out at the other man. He aimed his gun and with a quick fire shot a warning shot. He wasn't ready to kill this guy. He was going to give him a chance to leave first.
"Get out now ! Or you're going to be shot !" He warned in a fierce voice. He kept his gun aimed as he looked over the edge of the file cabinet. "This man is my catch !" He called again. If he messed this job he would be hungry for the next month until he got another job.
"Get out now ! Or you're going to be shot !" He warned in a fierce voice. He kept his gun aimed as he looked over the edge of the file cabinet. "This man is my catch !" He called again. If he messed this job he would be hungry for the next month until he got another job.
Roy, on the other hand, knew his own stakes when it came to leaving Paul Cruz free. The ghoul needed to be locked up with extreme supernatural prejudice; merely leaving him dead would pose a series of environmental problems, so his original informant told him.
"You want me to leave, kid?!" Roy responded back from behind his burning couch, hurling his voice through the crackling wood and drywall. That's when- of course, how stupid of him! That doorway just fifteen feet to his right was still open and totally not burnt up. "Why didn't ya say so?!"
Roy took no chances lingering around further. He jumped and dove towards the doorway, right as a large chunk of ceiling wood crashed through the floorboard where he was stationed at merely moments before. Not even bothering to turn around, he vaulted through the doorway, hopefully ditching the kid.
-
It was a turn left and a turn right, and then, because Roy saw the doorway barricaded with heavy objects, a crash through the window.
He rolled forward, softening his landing impact on the grass, the submachine gun bullets flying above him. He slid behind the chest-high rock in the ground; with his back to the stone, he pushed his head outwards a bit to see who had fired on him.
Twenty yards out, probably. Cruz's goons, all wrapped in black and grey. Three armored vehicles, all sleek black. Paul Cruz, that crazy ghoul, currently a tan-skinned man dressed in an ivory business suit, was commanding his thugs with asperity and expletives.
They started firing back at Roy's position as soon as the target started to move into one of the vehicles. The Freelancer instinctively fired back, head in cover, hand blindly pulling the trigger towards the cronies.
Roy considered that he would not have long before a) the kid showed up again, b) Cruz left again and c) the thugs went into their altered ghoul-y states...again. So much for being merciful right now.
"You want me to leave, kid?!" Roy responded back from behind his burning couch, hurling his voice through the crackling wood and drywall. That's when- of course, how stupid of him! That doorway just fifteen feet to his right was still open and totally not burnt up. "Why didn't ya say so?!"
Roy took no chances lingering around further. He jumped and dove towards the doorway, right as a large chunk of ceiling wood crashed through the floorboard where he was stationed at merely moments before. Not even bothering to turn around, he vaulted through the doorway, hopefully ditching the kid.
-
It was a turn left and a turn right, and then, because Roy saw the doorway barricaded with heavy objects, a crash through the window.
He rolled forward, softening his landing impact on the grass, the submachine gun bullets flying above him. He slid behind the chest-high rock in the ground; with his back to the stone, he pushed his head outwards a bit to see who had fired on him.
Twenty yards out, probably. Cruz's goons, all wrapped in black and grey. Three armored vehicles, all sleek black. Paul Cruz, that crazy ghoul, currently a tan-skinned man dressed in an ivory business suit, was commanding his thugs with asperity and expletives.
They started firing back at Roy's position as soon as the target started to move into one of the vehicles. The Freelancer instinctively fired back, head in cover, hand blindly pulling the trigger towards the cronies.
Roy considered that he would not have long before a) the kid showed up again, b) Cruz left again and c) the thugs went into their altered ghoul-y states...again. So much for being merciful right now.
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