Forums » General Roleplay » Twitchy sort of guy... [Violence/language warning]

Dog. He was wearing the outfit that consisted of combat boots and military pants, with the green wife-beater, dog tags hanging over his chest. He was sitting on a bench in a slum, as usual, just smoking a cigar. He was homeless, so where did he get it? The twitching, pain-filled guy on the sidewalk would answer that question. If the police or an ambulance hadn't been called yet, then damn! Dog had broken the guy's arm and taken his pistol ammo after a failed mugging. He'd also taken his cigars and zippo. So here he was, enjoying those cigars and just sitting on a bench, pondering his next move...

(Shita is an element user, but if you would like that she not have special powers i'll switch her background around a bit)

"Well that doesn't look very nice." Shita had been walking merrily around the town, looking eagerly for a source of entertainment, when she had wandered across this particular alleyway. Normal young woman of Shita's exact height and build might have quickly hurried away - no one with any grace wanted to be anywhere near this side of town. Shita, however, with her neon-bright red hair that feathered around her shoulders, was one of the least graceful young woman she had ever personally met. Also, she had a thing that kind of helped her out of bad situations, so why bother avoiding interesting situations?

So, down the alleyway she had trotted, brown book bag bouncing merrily on her back, until she happened across the man crumbling in the sewer. She had knelt in front of him, ignoring the winner of this apparent battle, the one smoking a cigar, and focused herself on...well...poking...the mugger.

"Why did ja do it mister?" The seventeen year old walked, looking up at Mad Dog with wide green eyes.

[No, that's fine. ] "What of it? Asshole tried puttin' his gun in my face so I snapped his arm like a twig. Was gonna put a bullet in his head but den' he told me about these lovely lil' smokes. Ain't that right, Buddy?" The man on the ground whimpered, tears in his eyes from the pain. "It's a compound fracture in the wrist and a snapped elbow. Grow the hell up, like a goddamn scrape on yer' knee compared to what I've been through." He shifted some, finishing off the first cigar before thumping the end off of the man's cheek. He'd stand, drawing his pistol to make sure that his clip was full, before holstering it again. "What's a richie-rich girl like you doin' around here anyway? Shouldn't you be livin' in some high class house or somethin' away from dangerous areas like this?" [As you can see he still holds his country style attitude and judgement, despite being paranoid schizophrenic around people from China, Russia, Germany, Korea, or Japan. That also means you probably should never tell him your name. ]

(Ha ha, Ooooo interesting! Hmmm, I wonder if Shita herself will catch on to that. She is trying to change her name to 'Sara' so maybe that will save her.)

"Ever thought to ask why he tried it?" She questioned, looking at the guy more with curiosity than pity, "I mean obviously he's bad at it, you're still alive. Maybe he was trying to feed his family?"

Then his comment about where she ought to be caught up with her. "Really mister?!" She asked excitedly, "Do I look high class?" She was nearly squealing with delight at the thought, fingering the skirt that covered her leggings with glee. "I tried, I mean, at least...I watched rich girls and how they dressed. It was sort of hard to make you know, but I managed it. How amazing!" She squealed, twirling in a circle.

He rose an eyebrow. "I don't give a sh-.. Crap about his family. For all I care he can get a job at a damn Mac'Donald's 'er somethin' for money." He was trying to watch his language.. Despite his history, he always tried to keep his wording 'youngin' safe. He began to walk off, ignoring her flamboyant reaction to his "compliment" which was actually just a statement.. Either way, he didn't care.

She paused mid twirl when she realized he was walking away and, after giving the man on the ground one more nice 'ol poke, hurried after him. "Oh, no wait mister! I never answered your question. You asked why I was out in this part of town right?" She was walking beside him, a bit more briskly perhaps than he might be as she was shorter than most. Her hair bounced in time with her bag, and glass could be heart clanking together at her side. "I'm around this way because I don't have anywhere else to go! Doesn't look much like you do either, so where are you going sir?"

"No where you should. Heard there was a secret skinhead outpost in an old warehouse not far from here." He drew his pistol, making sure the clip was full, before cocking the gun and reholstering it. "I'll be killin' them, unlike what I did to the guy back there. He's just got a broken arm."