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Post by Grant on Oct 25, 2012 22:25:38 GMT -5
The scent of sweat, blood, saliva, metal, stale air that mixed to some metallic scent made him think that he was underground somewhere. The sound of the oaken steps buckling under the weight of the heavy footsteps coming at them. He was so leashed to the hard stone cylinder that the earthquake that approached, step by step; seemed all the more deliberate, from the light he saw at the opening of the only door to this room they'd been placed in, he knew they were under ground, artificial light certainly. And when the hard muscled, ugly figure set forth, mishappen and misshapen, he had a bit of a smirk for but a moment, he was in and out of consciousness like the flicker of a candle, strong one moment, fleeting the next, but never fully out of it. He was trained too hard for that.
The monster that had taken to the Cobra Code had been called Rampage, she had a sadistic and masochistic streak larger than her muscle bound bloat form and more pronounced than the hideous mohawk she sported, only less off putting than the smile that she cracked when she was left with them and to her devices. Having her grotesque callous fist collide with his face, stomach, chest, until those areas exploded blood and erupted with bruises making his face and form seem like a craggy mountain was hardly his idea of a good time, but as she lashed into the other "guest" in this little shop of horrors, heating a poker until it had an eerie red glow he finally managed to let out a low groan.
His arms leashed above his head, now nearly numb, lashes having been taken out of his torso- on top of the ones that he'd had taken out of him years ago during earlier- he was hardly in the position to say, or do much of anything, and yet watching what was about to happen to that girl, why he did he only he knew, why he cared, if he did at all, or if he was just a Wilson, a glutton for punishment. The low "Hey cow, not her fault she's got feminine features. No reason to ruin them. Why not party with me? I'll shake you all night long you malignant sow." his attempt at cracking a smile was broken as quickly as a black glove fist colliding with his face.
And when he felt the white hot fire of the poker touch his breast and the extreme cool that came with nerves being severed, all the shots to the head he'd taken, there was something in him that was spiteful, something that knew deep down brain damage had to be in the cards, but that was a problem for another day.
His healing factor would really be working overtime tonight.
"The most action you've ever had." although he was half naked and getting wailed on furiously -which only increased with this jibe- it seemed that he might well be insane, the reality of his ulterior motive seemed to be that she was focusing far more on him now than previously, which would give the smaller of the two of them some time to wriggle free of their bondage. His cobalt blues attempted to not look at her as she did, knowing full well he'd blame her for their capture, wether rightly or wrongly.
Thinking back on where it went wrong was constructive, usually at the end of the mission but allowing ones mind to be in one place, body another was especially useful in times of physical torture, a transcendental technique his father had taught him some time ago that, not being especially spiritual or metaphysical he ended up sleeping through.
He could remember it so clearly, the smell of dried blood, vomit, desperation and smell beer as he walked into "Lefties". It was a hole in the wall, the definition of a scummy pub, dingy, disgusting, a snake pit in the truest sense, not only because of the pimps, pushers and villains -some super and some so not- but because there were snakes there. And it was a snake that Grant Wilson had come seeking out.
The two guards flanking the bathroom were easy enough, and the club was rowdy enough that the two daggers he'd sent in their direction entering their jugulars left a bit of a mess, but was otherwise silent. And as the villain Slipknot stood at the urinal doing his business, whistling dixie it happened all too fast. The dark hands wrapping around him, twisting, the crunch, the snap reverberated through the ill lit bathroom and his face went down into a the ice urinal he had just utilized. Into the warmth of his own fluid and the cold of the ice surrounding, as he fell the man decked out in armor covered in a brown ubiquitous trench coat, he held the mask the man had slipped out of after the neck snapping and his face flopped lifelessly into an icy death.
As he peeled off his own mask and slipped on the robes of the Cobra Cult he said simply "That's life isn't it? one minute you've got your ____ out taking a piss and the next your heads turning 180 degrees the wrong way and your face is in it." finally when he walked from the bathroom and out of the club his "fellow" cobra members colluded with him and the group headed into what seemed to be a subterranean church. Very gothic, very snake themed. Gargoyles and sepent statuary abound. Killing the King snake would be a bit more complicated than offing the idiot while he's on the john. But Grant had a nice payday coming his way he figured, if everything went well, he knew he'd likely come across the capes and booties crowd, the cobra cult always had the ability to kick up their ilk, with any luck he could get in and get out before he crossed paths with anyone in their girl scout troop. Though there was one who had something of his, who he wouldn't mind settling a few things with.
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Post by Cassandra Cain on Nov 1, 2012 22:50:18 GMT -5
It was a terrible idea from the very start and Cass had ignored it. The intel was not wrong, the clues that eventually brought her to this point. What was it with her and secret societies? There was no idea how deeply brain washed that girl was. She needed help and it was enough to get her investigation started. Her family was worried and gathering further intelligence all of the pieces made sense but not to the point where it sounded perfectly fabricated. A soft breath escaped as she tried testing the bindings working them, the sounds echoed and magnified with her hyper-senses being put in such a situation.
She was only trying to find Sarah Hudson not to bring down the Kobra cult. Cass tensed as each of Rampage's attacks landed upon the bound man wondering how much more of it he could take. Her eyes narrowed with hatred as the overly muscled woman that looked more like a poorly sculpted pile of rocks with a mohawk pulled a glowing white hot poker out of the fire meant for her. Despite being suspended from the ceiling with her arms above her head, Cass was ready for whatever their torturer would try on her to break her. It did not sit well with her that Grant had just saved her by taking on further torture. If this was his way to make her feel guilty for what she did, it was working, but there was never a reason to kill and she could not see herself making any other decision.
As the poker was inserted into the assassin, Cass felt her gut tighten and her body growing cold and then hot feeling frustrated and angry that the bastard did not just keep his mouth shut.
This assignment would have been over a few days ago if she did not miscalculate how brainwashed Sarah was. She was supposed to find her and bring her home. Not a very difficult assignment, and it was a favor for a friend of a friend. So quickly how things could twist and turn sideways never expecting the assassin that she had fought across a rooftop would get involved as well. Why does anyone actually need human sacrifices these days? Saving the woman from becoming a part of a ritualistic sacrifice should have jolted Sarah out of it. There was no screaming, nothing and it made Cass believe for a hot second that she was drugged and complacent towards the 'cause'.
Catastrophe melted on a piece of crap toast was what went down while Black Bat had infiltrated the underground 'church' just to find out that the leader, a King Snake was a damnable target of an assassination. While trying to thwart that, Sarah had sounded the alarms. It was not that she could not fight her way out of it, but her assignment was being ushered out and 'protected' while both she and Grant were captured. She was expecting it and let it happen knowing what would happen before she could make her escape, to see if anything could be received about their next location while they tried to beat the living crap out of them to get something to make her break. They apparently had no idea what she had been through, breaking her physically and mentally would never come having such a history for one so young.
Then the assassin got captured too and her plans went awry. She figured he would have been slippery enough to not be caught, but yet he did, and made her suspicious that he purposely allowed his capture as well. Since that rooftop dance with Grant, he had stolen a kiss from her that had puzzled her for weeks and then Cass just struck it from her mind labeling it as an attempt to distract to get away while saving face. It did not sit well with her, but questioning him about such frivolities would be just as ridiculous. Having been captured first, Cass was thrown into a windowless cell. A black space devoid of any light. She was left there to sit and starve without any contact until a few hours later another had entered the cell as the metal door clanked shut.
Her hands were bound behind her back and she could have freed herself in such an awkward position even while blind folded. She kept her silence as she used her other senses not having heard her new cellmate. Then she let out a little exasperated sound recognising the assassin. "Of all the people to be sharing a cell with, how the hell did you get caught?"
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Post by Grant on Nov 5, 2012 3:00:27 GMT -5
The beating was horrendous. But the reality of the situation was that it wasn't the worst he'd taken. He didn't want to think back on the metallic gloved fists colliding with his face, not much softer than the fat yellow ones ensconced in muscle and the groans that preceded every strike. He didn't make a sound. No matter how many times the iron struck or the fist came down it was not possible for him to make a sound. He knew what it did to the type, the type that was enjoying everything that she was doing, every reaction she was getting from him, the one she was seeking.
He knew that it would give her all kinds of pleasure, spur her on, maybe even some kind of morbid, sick sexual thrill from hurting someone, someone far more attractive than herself. And when he wrapped thick legs around the womans throat suddenly, like a constrictor or anaconda striking, he watched her eyes nearly pop from her skull with an equally morbid sense of satisfaction and possibly even pleasure.
Hours earlier he had managed to infiltrate the group, he'd bloodied his knife, his suppressed fire, he'd left more dead than he'd have liked, but not enough to set off all kinds of alarms and warning bells, no more than he had to. He was a terminator, a killer, an assassin, not a mass murderer, not a psycho, a scalpel, not a bazooka.
He'd stalked to the throne room and the bed chambers finally of the king snake. The Kobra was the undesputed king of this cult and in being so he'd trampled on the lives of many, and yet it wasn't these people, these trifling silly and miniscule masses, the people that paid him were higher than any middle class joe blow could hope to be, they couldn't write out those kinds of zeroes, and as he brought the swords alight, swinging them with a deadly accuracy and spilling the blood of the guards flanking the Kobra's quarters it was entirely clear why. And if it wasn't it very well soon would be.
For when he entered the room side stepping trap after trap, trip wire after trip wire, everything that a normal man, -no matter how brilliant by the law of averages would have to trip- and yet he didn't. So when the Kobra rose from his bed to grab for his staff his hand was met with a shot, and then he was summarily knee capped with another shot. There was a part of the man that tried not to enjoy watching a grown man crumble as if he were a pile of books, or shout JENGA, how he loved his job. And when he brought it up again the only words he could offer the groaning and spitting wounded snake man were those of "Kobra. I'd tell you who this is from. But in a second it isn't going to matter." the truth of this was that, and only that, and then the saving grace came, blaring alarms, lights, and the guards flooded in flanking him before he knew what could've happened.
There was an easy way out, to get the contract fulfilled and run and gun a room full of these snake headed idiots. Then when he'd checked his communicator display gps he'd realized one of his bugs was active. It was the one in his dagger, but the last place his dagger was imbedded in the frame of...
He knew who was here then, it was a moment of perfect clarity, an epiphany. And he dropped his gun then and raised his hands "Looks like you got me." his nonchalant manner seemed almost grating to the soldiers taking him in as they kicked the near naked man into the cell and he saw the dainty figure in the corner. Obscured by shadow and with the look of hell warmed over plastered on her face.
"Oh of all the people. I could ask you the same thing." he stopped himself short of the stereotypical accidentally saying the same as the other person verbatim. How cliche.
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Post by Cassandra Cain on Nov 6, 2012 0:38:42 GMT -5
As Cass swayed slightly above and away from Grant and Rampage, each punch, and attack at the bound man, quickened her breathing and the pace of her heart as her own anger grew. The assassin was not a friend of hers, but torture never sat well especially when she was forced to watch it. He took each and every attack without a sound and it seemed that the monster that was trying to break him just became further enraged by this.
She finally got loose of the bindings, but Grant’s legs were already squeezing the life out of his torturer. “No. Do not kill her. I need to know where they took one of their sacrifices.” Cass was not used to asking for things, or making demands. It was understandable that the assassin would want to attack and kill his captor, but who knows when they would get another opportunity. “Please…” Her intentions were to shackle their captor and question her as they were questioned. She offered a bit of a tit for tat as well as freedom from his bonds unless he had already managed to get them loose.
Has it already been hours earlier, Cass had already made it a point to try to ensure that her assignment was a complete bust. She could not afford to fail knowing that Sarah did not know any better. The cult descended upon her like flies on a rotting carcass and she fought hard and well enough to make them think they had overpowered her. Ever since that night on the rooftop with Grant, the dagger that he had left in her shoulder was kept upon her person in the hopes that she would have the pleasure of ‘giving it back to him’ preferably in a very painful place, but not a place that would kill him.
If she had known that his dagger was bugged, she would not have taken it to her home, or with her everywhere, but to a certain degree; she had a feeling that there might have been something like that. After all, it was her hope to sink it into his thigh or his shoulder after what he had done to escape. Even thinking about it made her scowl, due to how confused she had become after that little stunt he pulled. Cass was really not the time to hunt down every man that stole a kiss from her to beat some answers out of him about what it meant. Of course, she could not exactly say that she was not affected by it either, so to compensate she just scowled and promised to ‘give his knife back’.
“I have my reasons.” She said rather coldly sounding detached as she fiddled with her bindings. Having fought him, Cass knew that he was rather resilient and slippery. Again, she had a feeling that he was here because of her or his curiosity or he was just plain bored. She was definitely not feeling up to entertain and rolled her eyes in the dark.
The girl had not moved from her spot since having been thrown into the cell and she pressed her heated bruised face against the cool cement wall closing her eyes for a moment. Her attitude would not get her anywhere, but she had a feeling that she could not entirely trust Grant. It was worth a try to at least try to extend an olive branch, while inwardly she wondered why it had to start with her, “They will torture us, but I am hoping to buy a little time to find out where their other hideout is.” It was her attempt to offer some information of why she was here and her hope to get some information out of him while they waited to be seen.
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Post by Grant on Nov 11, 2012 3:27:18 GMT -5
Grant was beside himself when the woman came to his side, not to help with the beating he'd just taken, or to help subdue or hurt the creature that had beaten him, but to beg for IT'S life. As if this monster, this thing deserved any consideration, she'd thrown in with the enemy and grant knew that allowing her to live would be a heck of a stain on his rep let alone just plain stupid. Honestly it was no wonder the batfamily was a joke to criminals nowadays, you take away the fear of being killed and what else is there? Hell some even knew the guy wouldn't maim, most he'd do is knock out some rogue and then the guy stays in Arkham for awhile, breaks out and it starts all over.
Regardless, for some reason Grant found his legs unlocking just as the woman began to twitch and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. She wasn't dead yet but she was taking a nice nap. Something Grant, as he landed hard after getting his restraints free, had wished on for a moment. No, no, he thought that he wanted to feed these snakes their teeth, then he wanted a nap. "Fine. Whatever." his voice carried the usual indignant tone it might, perhaps a bit cocksure for sure but otherwise he let her body slink before he dropped, not skimping on digging his boot heel in her gigantic unconscious face.
He added "Only because you've got a cute ass." he said as he walked past her, perhaps taking more than an eyeful before giving the woman a kick which caused her to stir.
And as he did he let out a low "Rise and shine." gesturing to her for Cass, obviously he saw this as having done her a favor or some measure of a service and stalked off afterward, seemingly intent on finding whatever equipment he could hope to, as he did it was clear his healing factor was already becoming a notable factor as his eyes were no longer swollen over to the point where he could no longer see, and in fact many of the cuts she'd given him had healed, the burns were taking a good bit of time but his face was rapidly returning, he raked his fingers through strawberry blind hair and looked for his mask and armor as he did, the clicking of automatic weapons being reloaded meant he'd found quite a few.
He'd sat there in that dank basement as she'd spoke and said "Well, you can take whoever you want, just as long as whoever you're talking about isn't dumb enough to get in my way. Or in the way of the King snake. We've got a score to settle." as he spoke he knew both of these things were hard sells for the likes of these bat people. He knew how she'd react if he tried to kill anyone, they were that much of an annoyance, honestly the moral absolutes they worked under were as out dated as most of them. He wasn't about to get into an ethics, moral debate with a girl who was clearly laboring with her speech as it was, he had to admit feeling naked infront of her without his weapons, his armor, and not naked in a good way. Not naked in a way he liked. As he looked her over he had the overwhelming feeling that this might be something of a wrong move, that he should've wired this place to blow and taken them all to hell and good riddance to bad rubbish, sure it might not be seen a s a "terminator" like strike, a bit of throwing the baby out with the bath water, overkill? maybe. Fun? sure. Necessary? not so much.
But he'd be enjoying a burger and fries right about now rather than sharing a cell with a woman who..although she had a decent kaboose, didn't have the most sparkling personality. Even among the bat themed caped types. And boy was that saying something.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
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Post by Cassandra Cain on Nov 13, 2012 17:12:17 GMT -5
Cass knew what she was doing even though she could sense the upset within the assassin that she had just ask to spare the life of the woman that tortured him earlier. It was an easy read as he grew tense weighing his decision and what was a sneer in disgust but eventually did what she asked. She did not care of what he thought of her as long as the interrogator gave the information that she was seeking.
She frowned when Rampage slumped over and sighed softly as Grant kicked her face having the heavy, unconscious woman fall over in a rather awkward position. The dark-haired woman was about to mention that she needed her awake to interrogate her, but no words came out as the reason for why he allowed their torturer to continue living was shared with her. Then she frowned not knowing any witty retorts and figured he was trying to rile her up. It did however bring up the image and moment when he kissed her to get away. He was trying to scramble her mind in some odd little game he was playing and she did not appreciate him.
It was times like this that she figured a hot poker to the gut might be appropriate, but she could not dwell on it knowing that there was work to be done. She kept her mouth shut and her expression blank even as Grant kicked the unconscious woman causing her to start waking up. Cass drew closer to Rampage’s fallen form and pressed her fingers to the woman’s pulse. “Where did they take the sacrifices?” She said softly. Her expression was deadpan, but there was a hint of a dangerous impatience darling the woman to try to attack her.
Rampage gurgled on blood and spit still groggy from the take down, but it sounded like she was trying to be as defiant as a person can be while flat on their back bleeding internally. “Tell me quickly and we leave. A better chance for you to live through this as well, or we can reciprocate what you have done to us.” Then she smiled a creepy little smile that did not reach her eyes. Whether she was from the bat family or not, her methods were a lot more questionable and brutal and perhaps people may wish for death rather than tangling with her. Of course, in the end, they would still be there, life still hanging there allowing for time to reflect.
The young woman sat there glaring at him finding out why he was here in the first place. She did not quite understand how he got captured though, but held her peace. Cass was not about to make a deal like that. If anything she did not work dishonestly and it was often easier to fall back on not speaking if there is nothing to say that the other did not wish to hear.
It was not difficult to sense the man’s annoyance, but she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs balancing with her feet not touching the ground the cuffs were discarded as if they were just an accessory. This was going to be a rather boring wait and she took note of the man crossing his arms. She wanted to ask now that they were not trying to beat each other to a pulp, but there was no way to say anything out loud without sounding foolish. Inwardly, all she wanted to do is move closer to Grant and punch him in the mouth for kissing her without her permission, but that would probably come off as ‘caring more than she should’ so again she just sat in complete silence and rocked wondering what was taking their captors so long to get back to them.
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Post by Grant on Nov 20, 2012 20:03:04 GMT -5
When the tall man appeared from the shadowed threshold again of what seemed to be this dungeonous torture chamber, stinking like an abattoir, a necropolis surrounded by a ring of serpents he wore his armor again, save the helmet clutched to his side lackadaisically, casually to his side. His face, bruised and beaten could be seen visibly healing even as he so stood there and finally the ice blue eyes of the man were visible once more no longer obscured by swollen flesh from hammer blows by the yellow haired monstrosity now at Cassandra Cain's mercy.
"They took all my automatic weapons, smart. Well, not dumb, the dumb part is they left my swords, that yellow cow probably had designs of sticking me with my own tools. with that he replaced his helmet and when he spoke, his hands drawing those blades, they reflected the flickering heat of the torches of this cask, of this house of horrors...
"Your toys are down the hall to the left. Mind your step. I left a bit of a mess." his tone muffled and distorted from the heavy Nth metal helm he wore now, when she would release the woman and find her way to her own utility belt and other accoutrements she'd find several slumped over bodies that he'd presumably incapacitated with only his shackles and bare hands. A credit to his stealth capabilities that none raised the alarm.
He had never been foolish enough to put too much trust in a tool, his guns, explosives, swords, all were meant to be extensions of his own abilities. He remembered his father's fists raised up at him, the two of them duking it out as if their lives depended on it, sparring in the Wilson family was not something done with a gentle hand, no punches were pulled, it wasn't their way. "Hand to hand is the basis of all combat. his father had nettled him, he'd been a late teen at the time and still the grey lion of a man had yet to cease and desist the lecturing, treating him like the child he'd been years before. everything was mediocre, adequate at best to Deathstroke the Terminator.
But it had gotten the point across, the few times he'd relied on a weapon in the field it had gone badly for him, it was stupidity, he'd been a child soldier in the Bialyan civil war, thrown into the mayhem before he knew how to fight, when he killed his first man, he remembered the cold words Slade had said to him as he stood there, struggling to hold the automatic rifle at such a tender age Now you know..
The chill of those words had been hard to overcome. And as he collided the pummel of his sword with a guard that entered knocking him well into unconsciousness. When he disappeared into the shadows like a ghost his voice seemed to reverberate through the room, utilizing the fact that the octaves carried so well through such a vacant area making a rasping cacophony "You're more than welcome to save the brat of yours. But get in my way again and I'll leave you with more than a kiss and a little penetration."
There was a part of him that didn't trust this woman to do the smart thing and snuff that idiot metahuman before she managed to come to her wits and the two had a fight on their hands. It wasn't his problem he told himself, he'd wanted a few things, gotten a few and now he had a job to do.
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Post by Cassandra Cain on Nov 24, 2012 17:33:40 GMT -5
Cassandra did not glance over at Grant as he disappeared back in his gear. She did notice that his bruises and other visible injuries were healing at a faster rate than a normal human being, but did not have time to really make a comparison her full attention directed towards Rampage. There were no signs of any sort of decipherable emotion from her as she heard the assassin mention that a majority of his weapons were missing.
A brisk nod was given as she did look at him finally as she stepped away from the downed woman who was now their captive. She was gone for several minutes to pick up her possessions and her lips were pressed into a grim line as she observed the ‘mess’ that he left behind. It still made no sense how he got caught unless it was on purpose, and then why would he want to do that. None of the answers readily came to her so instead she quickly moved back to the room where she left Grant with Rampage.
She did not know enough about the assassin only having tangled with him once before. Cass was hoping to get an image of him to send to Oracle for further information gathering. To a certain degree, she might have understood what he did both having rather single-minded fathers hungry to build a perfect killing machine and finding that their own flesh and blood was ripe for that training. For now, the young woman found it vastly irritating that she did not know why he was here and was almost tempted to knock him unconscious and to stuff him into a closet somewhere so she could file this away as a win. Of course, who even knew if Sarah even wanted to be saved the way she had behaved before her capture.
Upon her return, she got the meta-human to sing for her after a few tries and the gigantic woman was well on her way to a dreamless sleep with perhaps a rather painful reality, but it was a lot better than death. She scowled at Grant at his vulgar statement and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There was the thought of why he was here, and how she got in his way ‘again’, but her lips pursed together as she showed off her ‘I’m not amused’ expression before placing the domino onto her face.
The dark-haired girl had been carrying around Grant’s Nth dagger since he had left it in her shoulder during their first encounter and when she noticed that he did not claim it so she did. “I have no need for this. You should have it back,” she offered the dagger back to the assassin, hilt towards him. Of course, she would perhaps regret it slightly if he decided to use it on her again, but they managed to work together to a certain point without hurting or killing each other.
“Don’t you ever stop talking?” She said coldly and before an answer could be heard, she was out the door hoping to catch that second opportunity. There was always a secret hideout that most of these secret societies love to fall back to when someone infiltrated their first domain. She did not trust Rampage for a moment to give her the correct information and when neither was paying attention, she had embedded a GPS tracker the size of a grain of rice into the back of the hulking beast of a woman’s neck, Lidocaine used to numb the area.
Even if Rampage had lied through her teeth despite the pain and threats, Cass would follow her back to where this Kobra Society was meant to actually be. It was one reason why it was rather important to keep people alive if they were making a list. She figured this is where they parted ways and she looked at him for a moment, nodded, and then left for the exit. It would have been nice to actually have put the tracker on Sarah instead, but how would she have known how brainwashed the girl was? It did nothing to dwell on failure, but to learn from it and move forward. Find the girl, return girl, go home.
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Post by Grant on Dec 7, 2012 21:36:07 GMT -5
You're missing the most important part! You can't take credit for something no one knows you did! The symbol Grant! You're my son! START ACTING LIKE IT! those words resonated within the feathery blond skull of the man that had looked down to the dagger almost haunted. As if it were some ancient, cursed curio he only desired to rid himself of. There were many times he was glad his face was so shielded from the public eye, that no one could make heads or tails of what he was saying or doing and thinking via his body language when he took on that supposed vaunted mantle. This was decidedly one of them. Though, given her history, he thought she might well know what he was thinking without seeing his face or his tone of voice, all those niceties that people took for granted when they spoke, the 90% of human communication that was non verbal told her more than he ever hoped to know at any given time. It was disarming in that he felt naked infront of her, undressed by those cold dark eyes, and not undressed in a good way.
Finally it seemed as his hand reached forward and he grasped the shaft she too had been handling, and for a moment the touch between them seemed to pass something that brought a chill and yet an incandescent warmth that he wasn't entirely sure of, like a fire that withers in the cold of a piercing wind, yet hisses blue with a deadly cold. "Thanks." was all he murmured, his voice not really ringing of gratitude yet vested with some form of sentiment that meant this dagger had meant something to him, the logical conclusion being that it invoked not-so-good memories within his skull. Regardless after their first, and most ginger of touches he'd eggressed his hand in due time and placed the dagger within his boot leg.
It was then Rampage started to stir and a boot heel found itself to her face, damn near taking her jaw off, if not the entirety of her head. "Yup." was his only response to her inquiry as he darted back suddenly disappearing into the vault of shadows enveloping this place. From those shadows the red eyes of the Ravager mask peeked, a predatory gaze if ever there was one when he leapt from them, as if the shadows had birthed him, giving him form and function, binding him as if a cocoon. When he burst from them the varying robed cultists had been around the woman so tied to a post and set to be thrown within a cask of serpents. The men flanking her fell fast and hard, as oft men did when they found inches of steel digging into their brain pan. They fell limp and lifeless as if marionettes emancipated from string, choking and gasping and making all manner of smell, the smell of death that permeated when blood and all other body fluids came bubbling to the surface.
He let out a sigh, of frustration, annoyance and exasperation as he thought how it was just his luck he came across HER mark rather than his own. He couldn't remember the girl's name, but given the decorative, skimpy little slip they'd looked to have painted on her and all the dancing cultists about they hadn't drank the kool aid yet and were about to drop this little tart into a coffin of poisonous snakes and watch her squirm. To his surprise after a grunt of "C'mon." and he'd cut her restraints with one fluid movement of his sword she'd grasped a serpent and came at him with it.
It had only taken one simple, solitary horizontal slash to end the threat of the hissing mamba she'd intended to put down his gullet and after it began headless death throes, he let out a exasperated "You're brainwashed...really?! Luckily I've got the cure for that." the annoyance in his voice could've been picked up by even the most socially inept of observers, but if not, the point was punctuated by a thud of pommel colliding with her head, knocking her out completely. He hoisted her onto his shoulder and kicked the cask hard, spraying snakes at the cultists that now ran at him angrily in a rush, only to be showered with the poisonous creatures, falling victim to venomous bites and doubling over.
With that he leaped off the dais erected for this little pow wow. Thinking how Always been a sucker for a cute ass.
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Post by Cassandra Cain on Dec 11, 2012 15:11:37 GMT -5
With a deadpan look, Cassandra observed Grant as his knife was offered. If she read anything in his reaction, she did not point it out and stayed as unreadable herself. It suddenly gave away to awkwardness and she wondered if he would reject it observing the conflict that just looking at it had conjured.
When his hand touched hers as he took ahold of the knife, there was warmth and an odd little charge that made her heart act funny. She was not really one to blush, but that would have been one of those moments where the awkwardness grew. The dark-haired woman nodded and kept her mouth shut as well as got moving once again.
Black Bat failed to even wince falling back on just a scowl as Grant stomped on Rampage head as if she were a bug to knock her out cold. Then he was gone, and she went in another direction. Upon her arrival, there were no groups of cultists, or their mindless thralls. As silent as a shadow, Cass found her way into the new ‘lair’ wondering why these places always had to smell disgusting, be incredibly dark and always sounded as if infested by something carrying a disease. It was not that she was scared or a mysophobe, just found it simply gross and it could not be good for them to live in such filth.
Her jaw was set stubbornly not making a sound as she hugged the walls using the dim lighting and shadows to her advantage. While conducting her exploration to find Sarah, she noticed the lack of ‘acolytes’ about until she came to a room with guards, and a sturdy door. Her eyes narrowed not finding Sarah anywhere, but finding King Kobra coming out of the room with the two guards flanking him. It was at that moment that she realized that there was a huge possibility that the leader of the cult was Grant’s target.
She began to chew her lip trying to look at the bigger picture knowing that the guy had a big bullseye on his back and it was a matter of time that he would get assassinated. Cassandra would know that Grant would become hostile if she interfered in any way, but she needed to stick to her own beliefs. Chewing her lip, she made a decision, calling in the local authorities to take down King Kobra while leaving an anonymous tip of where he could be found. The guards were down in a blink of an eye and King Kobra would wake up with a large goose egg but alive more than likely.
Stashing the leader of this notorious cult away bound and gagged for his own safety, she advanced forward knowing that the police would be there soon and it was still imperative to find Sarah and get out of there. She pulled out a GPS tracking device that was linked up to the GPS tracker that she had integrated into Grant’s knife. Cass told herself it was to keep tabs on the guy and nothing more. A frown furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together as she noticed he was as far away from the new compound for some odd reason and putting the tracking device away, the Black Bat left as quickly and as quietly as if she were never there except the wrapped up presents for the police and braced herself for one more run in with Grant the assassin.
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