Post by ludovic on Nov 9, 2006 20:36:33 GMT -5
* Gangstas , about 6 or 7, are hanging out on the street, with their bassy music
playin'. Their clothing style is as much an affront to the eyes as their
respective business is an affront to the law...
* Gangstas ' music repeats an angry beat accompanied by even angrier words. Most
of the passerbyes try to ignore their presence, or outright choose a different
street. Some younger homies are in a fenced basketball court, nearby, playing a
game of hoops.
* Grigori smirks from his position, perched on a building above them. He's been
buzy observig them over the last few days, so that he could find where most of
that group hanged around. Now is going to be the time to strike... and creates
the greatest havoc possible.
* Grigori is fully armoured.... finnaly, he decides to make his move.... and let
himself fall, knowing the powered legs of the armour are more than enough to
absorb the shock, as he lands right in the middle of the gangstas, a dark
cerametal clad figure, with with eyes of the glowing green that is his
nightvison system.
<Gangstas> "Holy shit... whut de hell be dat?", one of the gangsters shout out,
as the begin to disperse a bit, unintentionally making a bit of a circle around
the armor clad interruption...
* Gangstas 's leader, a black guy with a reverse mohawk, shouts "You's gots' some
lot uh nerve interrdowntin' out party, mister. Ah be baaad... Just who do ya'
dink ya' are?"
* Grigori smirks behind his mask, some contraption with breathing tubes that
connect to an oxygen tank hidden within the mass that his the "backpack"-like
mass that also contains his jetpack.
* Grigori pauses a bit to fully stand in all his armoured form, the sound of his
breathing amplified by the built-in voxcaster/speaker in his mask.
* Gangstas pull out their guns at their leader's hand signal. They represent with
an assortment of handguns. Berettas, glocks, colts, and a magnum revolver.
* Grigori looks around. "How amusing... the condemned thinking they stand a
chance..." he comment. With a though, he brings the jetpack system online,
preparing to blast off at any moment.
* Gangstas ' leader "De T-Fro's, here, dink ya''d betta' be takin' some walk,
before you get yo tin ass turned to swiss cheese"
* Gangstas chuckle.
* Gangstas look to one another with some sneers and grins. They think they can
take on this beyotch.
<Grigori> "Funny that you say that." he says. "I was about to tsay the same to
you.". He says. The sound of the click of his automatic arm-attached machine
gun make itself heard before he turn to blast some burst at some of the
leader's followers. And blast off in the air with the flames of his jetpack.
<Gangstas> "Represent!", one of them yells, as they fire a barrage of various
calibur bullets at Grigori...
* Gangstas yell and try to dodge as the autofire rips through two of their own...
The kids in the basketball court take cover and hide behind street corners,
barrels, or anything else solid. Pedestrians get the hell out of Dodge!
* Grigori quickly rises aboves the hail of bullets, taking a grenade from his
belt. And deliberatedly set the fuse to a longer than normal amount of time.
Like... ten second. Enough to permits the confused gangstas to see it and get
away from it, but just short enough for it to explodes closes enough to people
running away to make for quite a show.
* Gangstas watch as a familiar wartime object falls from the rising figure...
"Oh, shit, yo!", one screams, as they make for the closest cover...
<Gangstas> "I ain't takin' this shit. This fool 's serious. Let's get outta here."
* Grigori continues rising in the air, staring at the confusion below... the
explosion should happen anytime soon, just as they scatter around... pity they
don't know that the show's only really just beggining.
* Gangstas is now known as Gangsta
<Gangsta> "Oh Jesus!", an unlucky one yells, as shrapnel from the grenade rips
through part of his arm and chest, wounding and knocking him in an arc into the
street.
* Grigori smirks... and begins to twist in the air as he turn his head toward a
running straggler, the vectoring thrust of his pack's ducted fan orienting
themselves for a dive in his direction as the jet engine stops. He'll try to
tackle him to the ground.
<Gangsta> "Ack!!", he belches out, as the weight of Grigori's suit knocks him
face first into the ground and drags him along several meters..
* Grigori chuckles a bit. Getting back up. He'll try to grab the gangsta by the
collar to lift him up.
<Grigori> "So... not looking so thought anymore?"
* Gangsta slumps in Grigori's grip. He eyeballs his nemesis in the helmet,
sneers, and raises his gun upward in a last act of defiance... Spectators from
the court behind stare from between and around their urban defensive
structures...
* Grigori quickly grab that arm, or attempts to at least. If he does, he'll
firmly pushes it and the firing tip out of harm's way(for him) and attempt to
slam the gangsta in a wall or something like that to possibly try to get him to
loses his hold on the gun. Assuming, of course, that he's able to grasp that
arm fist.
<Gangsta> "Go t'hell", he grunts. But upon, pulling the trigger, a disheartening
"click" is all that sounds... Then he is slammed upon the wall, where he closes
his eyes and drops his weapon...
* Gangsta begins tearlessly sobbing. Pitiful.
* Grigori smirks.
<Grigori> "What I thought...." he lift him with a single hand... "... now,
please, give me a service."
* Gangsta stares with red eyes. "Whatdya want, man? I'll git you whateva you
want. I gots connections. Just let me outta here!"
<Grigori> "Oh.... nothing that drastic.... I only want you to /scream/." he says,
putting a grim emphasis on that last word, before driving his free arm's
saw-blade through the man's chest, where the motorized blade will probably make
a pulpy mess of the man's guts.
<Grigori> <<something that should be most painful to boot, too. And gory. Yep.
Lots of gore.>>
<Gangsta> "Gaaaaahhhhhhlblblblblblblblblgarblgarbl." A mans last sound as the saw
cuts through the chest and the blood finds it's way through the throat,
gurgling the scream, near the end
<Gangsta> X.x
* Grigori smirks. And then discard the body to leave the corpse slumping on the
floor. He looks around to see if there are more stragglers in sight or such.
* Grigori smirks some more... and then take some bandana he had taken from a
gangster from another gang whom he slayed earlier, letting it drop near the
body. His job should be done for now. Let's just see what the medias will say.
playin'. Their clothing style is as much an affront to the eyes as their
respective business is an affront to the law...
* Gangstas ' music repeats an angry beat accompanied by even angrier words. Most
of the passerbyes try to ignore their presence, or outright choose a different
street. Some younger homies are in a fenced basketball court, nearby, playing a
game of hoops.
* Grigori smirks from his position, perched on a building above them. He's been
buzy observig them over the last few days, so that he could find where most of
that group hanged around. Now is going to be the time to strike... and creates
the greatest havoc possible.
* Grigori is fully armoured.... finnaly, he decides to make his move.... and let
himself fall, knowing the powered legs of the armour are more than enough to
absorb the shock, as he lands right in the middle of the gangstas, a dark
cerametal clad figure, with with eyes of the glowing green that is his
nightvison system.
<Gangstas> "Holy shit... whut de hell be dat?", one of the gangsters shout out,
as the begin to disperse a bit, unintentionally making a bit of a circle around
the armor clad interruption...
* Gangstas 's leader, a black guy with a reverse mohawk, shouts "You's gots' some
lot uh nerve interrdowntin' out party, mister. Ah be baaad... Just who do ya'
dink ya' are?"
* Grigori smirks behind his mask, some contraption with breathing tubes that
connect to an oxygen tank hidden within the mass that his the "backpack"-like
mass that also contains his jetpack.
* Grigori pauses a bit to fully stand in all his armoured form, the sound of his
breathing amplified by the built-in voxcaster/speaker in his mask.
* Gangstas pull out their guns at their leader's hand signal. They represent with
an assortment of handguns. Berettas, glocks, colts, and a magnum revolver.
* Grigori looks around. "How amusing... the condemned thinking they stand a
chance..." he comment. With a though, he brings the jetpack system online,
preparing to blast off at any moment.
* Gangstas ' leader "De T-Fro's, here, dink ya''d betta' be takin' some walk,
before you get yo tin ass turned to swiss cheese"
* Gangstas chuckle.
* Gangstas look to one another with some sneers and grins. They think they can
take on this beyotch.
<Grigori> "Funny that you say that." he says. "I was about to tsay the same to
you.". He says. The sound of the click of his automatic arm-attached machine
gun make itself heard before he turn to blast some burst at some of the
leader's followers. And blast off in the air with the flames of his jetpack.
<Gangstas> "Represent!", one of them yells, as they fire a barrage of various
calibur bullets at Grigori...
* Gangstas yell and try to dodge as the autofire rips through two of their own...
The kids in the basketball court take cover and hide behind street corners,
barrels, or anything else solid. Pedestrians get the hell out of Dodge!
* Grigori quickly rises aboves the hail of bullets, taking a grenade from his
belt. And deliberatedly set the fuse to a longer than normal amount of time.
Like... ten second. Enough to permits the confused gangstas to see it and get
away from it, but just short enough for it to explodes closes enough to people
running away to make for quite a show.
* Gangstas watch as a familiar wartime object falls from the rising figure...
"Oh, shit, yo!", one screams, as they make for the closest cover...
<Gangstas> "I ain't takin' this shit. This fool 's serious. Let's get outta here."
* Grigori continues rising in the air, staring at the confusion below... the
explosion should happen anytime soon, just as they scatter around... pity they
don't know that the show's only really just beggining.
* Gangstas is now known as Gangsta
<Gangsta> "Oh Jesus!", an unlucky one yells, as shrapnel from the grenade rips
through part of his arm and chest, wounding and knocking him in an arc into the
street.
* Grigori smirks... and begins to twist in the air as he turn his head toward a
running straggler, the vectoring thrust of his pack's ducted fan orienting
themselves for a dive in his direction as the jet engine stops. He'll try to
tackle him to the ground.
<Gangsta> "Ack!!", he belches out, as the weight of Grigori's suit knocks him
face first into the ground and drags him along several meters..
* Grigori chuckles a bit. Getting back up. He'll try to grab the gangsta by the
collar to lift him up.
<Grigori> "So... not looking so thought anymore?"
* Gangsta slumps in Grigori's grip. He eyeballs his nemesis in the helmet,
sneers, and raises his gun upward in a last act of defiance... Spectators from
the court behind stare from between and around their urban defensive
structures...
* Grigori quickly grab that arm, or attempts to at least. If he does, he'll
firmly pushes it and the firing tip out of harm's way(for him) and attempt to
slam the gangsta in a wall or something like that to possibly try to get him to
loses his hold on the gun. Assuming, of course, that he's able to grasp that
arm fist.
<Gangsta> "Go t'hell", he grunts. But upon, pulling the trigger, a disheartening
"click" is all that sounds... Then he is slammed upon the wall, where he closes
his eyes and drops his weapon...
* Gangsta begins tearlessly sobbing. Pitiful.
* Grigori smirks.
<Grigori> "What I thought...." he lift him with a single hand... "... now,
please, give me a service."
* Gangsta stares with red eyes. "Whatdya want, man? I'll git you whateva you
want. I gots connections. Just let me outta here!"
<Grigori> "Oh.... nothing that drastic.... I only want you to /scream/." he says,
putting a grim emphasis on that last word, before driving his free arm's
saw-blade through the man's chest, where the motorized blade will probably make
a pulpy mess of the man's guts.
<Grigori> <<something that should be most painful to boot, too. And gory. Yep.
Lots of gore.>>
<Gangsta> "Gaaaaahhhhhhlblblblblblblblblgarblgarbl." A mans last sound as the saw
cuts through the chest and the blood finds it's way through the throat,
gurgling the scream, near the end
<Gangsta> X.x
* Grigori smirks. And then discard the body to leave the corpse slumping on the
floor. He looks around to see if there are more stragglers in sight or such.
* Grigori smirks some more... and then take some bandana he had taken from a
gangster from another gang whom he slayed earlier, letting it drop near the
body. His job should be done for now. Let's just see what the medias will say.