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Jul 14, 2016 13:05:57 GMT
Post by jack on Jul 14, 2016 13:05:57 GMT
Jack wasn’t a stranger to dangerous situations. He’d lived through school, and he didn’t think things would get much worse. But the world was fickle, and many things happened when he least expected them to. He backed up against the wall, growling at the man who had just fired two warning shots from his fingers. “If I kill you, maybe they’ll stop chasing me down,” shrieked the man, whose name Jack didn’t know and whose face Jack didn’t even recall seeing, “Maybe they’ll stop hounding my family –” Maybe it was too much to kill a teenager, but nothing was ever too much on the streets of Arkham. This man clearly had been desperate enough to borrow money from the mafia, but hadn’t the means to pay back. This was his own problem, not Jack’s. Jack balled his hands into fists so tight that his nails started cutting into his palms. “And then what?” Jack demanded of the man, “And then they’ll leave you alone? As if.” He was caught between a rock and a hard place, but Jack wasn’t afraid of a man who could use his fingers into guns. Neither was he afraid of dying. “Go fuck yourself,” yelled Jack, as the man fired a bullet from his index finger. sovereign
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i know a little sin to which we can aspire
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Jul 15, 2016 19:02:33 GMT
Post by sovereign on Jul 15, 2016 19:02:33 GMT
yes, i did bullshit that it would make noise. no, i’m not sorry. deal w/ it leo
his life would probably be easier if he was the sort of person who didn’t run towards the sound of gunshots.
this vaguely occurs to aidan mid-vault over an AC duct, dropping to the ground - actually the flat roof of an apartment building - and skidding, twisting to catch the edge, sliding down the drainpipe at speed. one corner, barely twenty metres, and he sprints as fast as his energized muscle will carry him.
he doesn’t even register that there’s no gun, just a hand pointed in imitation of one, just slams bodily into the man and hears his... well, hand-gun go off. it’s muscle memory now to wrench the arm from its socket, slam his knee high into the chest as they fall to strike the collarbone, fit all his weight straight onto the solar plexus as they hit the ground. in an instant he goes from dark tackling blur to parka-clad gargoyle crouched on the assailant’s chest. his breathing is still steady, pulse only slightly elevated.
“are you okay?” he calls, glancing over his shoulder at the guy’s would-be victim. “he hit you?”
jack |
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Jul 16, 2016 13:07:36 GMT
Post by jack on Jul 16, 2016 13:07:36 GMT
Jack’s ears were still ringing from the gunshot. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been good – wait a second. Not good for … the crazy dude with hand-guns. “No,” Jack replied, shakily. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely out of the woods yet, but it was safer to place his trust in someone who had yet to attack him at this point. He shifted away from the guy pinning the older man onto the ground as subtly as he could. Trusting someone didn’t mean that he had to stand there like a sitting duck. “I –” Unable to do much, Jack’s assailant coughed slightly and groaned in pain. “—not yet, no.” Jack shifted again. And with two parts curiosity and three parts concern for himself, he added, “Are you after him?” sovereign
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i know a little sin to which we can aspire
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Jul 28, 2016 16:07:50 GMT
Post by sovereign on Jul 28, 2016 16:07:50 GMT
he’s never really been one to take chances.
he releases what is, at his best guess, a pretty serious taser’s worth of charge straight into the guy’s solar plexus, taking advantage of the muscle spasm helplessness to fit his knee against the carotid. the struggle lasts a few seconds. he releases the pressure only when he’s sure the assailant is unconscious, and his eyebrows are visibly drawn together in concentration as he makes sure the man is still breathing.
that’s him out of commission, then. overkill, yeah, but the day he doesn’t is going to be the day where he needs to, and he doesn’t fancy being shot or shanked for carelessness.
“well he’s not going to be doing anything now,” he announces, the words faintly distorted through the respirator. “not as such. i was, uh... around.” he’s not going to pretend he looks anything that isn’t deeply suspicious, but arkham has enough vigilantes on patch that he can safely assume he’s identifiable as one. “i heard the shots, figured there was probably someone he was aiming at. you know him?”
jack |
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