Post by Jet Somers on Jul 21, 2010 20:34:34 GMT -5
He rolls up the newspaper and taps it against his knee. Kyung-min was right. He doesn't know how he knows, but he can feel it. The recent deaths in Vegas, reported in the very news media he now clenches tightly in his fist... it was her. She was getting close.
----------
"So what are you going to do?" Gian sits on the bench outside the foam pit. Having just completed a routine practice session in preparation for the upcoming battle, he had let it all out and told Gian about Chika Ryuu Ja and the darker measure he had had to resort to in order to not be forced to abandon his sister here... the same sister who had eventually abandoned him in the war.
"Well, I'm going to see if Forewell ever turned up any information on her, see if there are any places she's likely to set up shop or contacts in the area," Jet answers, "From what I understand, she was really well connected all over the world. It was part of her job, and she was good at it."
"You're really going to trust that fruitcake?" Gian looks incredulous.
"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Jet gives a half-worried smile, "And the guy is diligent. Who knows? He might turn up something. Any lead would be useful right now."
"You think she'll show up at In Your Hands?" Gian queries.
"I don't know if she's that bold," Jet shrugs, "I called Kyung-min back, he said she's been pretty sneaky so far... damn covert really. But when I read about the vics in Vegas... I don't know, it's like the closer she gets to what she wants, the sloppier she gets. I don't think she cares what eventually happens to her, as long as she can get to me."
"God, what's that doing for your focus?" Gian winces.
Jet shakes his head, "It's bad enough as it is. Not only does the Consortium not think enough of the division to give me any meaningful opponents, even at a Pay Per View event, and therefore not give me much motivation to defend the championship that I've come to embrace, but the three of us are so mismatched that it's really just going to be a cluster bang out there. A powerhouse, a techie clinch, and a highflier? The fans are going to be more confused than entertained."
"You think either of them could pull it off?" his sparring partner wonders.
"Hey, I've told you before," Jet reminds him, "I like the Aussie Rebels one and all. Great competitors, they don't have some screwed up ulterior agenda they are trying to get over. But I just don't think they are on my level. Well, maybe JK, but Enigma, Ethan King, or even Paul? Nah. This ones in the bag... again."
"Interesting match though... did you see the approved weapons list?" Gian chuckles.
"Yeah, I'm wondering," Jet looks at Gian seriously, "If we are using T-Rob's laptop in the match that night, are results going to be late?"
They both turn and look at you. Yes you. The Reader.
----------
Slowly she extends a muscular but tan leg to cut off the flow of the faucet into the discretionarily bubbly tub. She settles down into the steamy bath, eyes closed, a soft moan of relaxation escaping from deep in her throat. She had put Jet through the guantlet today during their training session. She knew the movesets of his opponents at the upcoming event, and since Jet was no brawler, and he had only lately begun experimenting with high risk moves, he was going to have to be on his toes to split his defense against two guys who, it stood to reason, had worked together in the past. Jet didn't believe either was much of a challenge individually, but together, Jenny believed they could mount enough of an offense to stack up to Jet's impressive abilities. Only his nimbleness that he earned in her class would help keep him from falling under what could be a relentless onslaught from the opposing men in the match.
He had contacted Forewell Boding earlier in the day, trying to see if he had gleaned any information in his search. Jenny had called Owen to get Forewell's number for herself. She'd had something else in mind. A smile crosses her full lips as she realizes Jet would probably have something to say to her about how it made him look to have a bodyguard. Jenny didn't care. If it helped in the end, she was more than happy to take his anger and hurt pride.
A crash outside the bathroom door jerks her out of her reverie and she shot up in the tub, spilling water and a cute rubber ducky with a goatee over the edge of the claw tub. She thrashes around for a towel to wipe her face, then gapes at the door. She stands up, deftly covering herself as water streams from her shapely dancer's body. Cautiously, she eases the door open.
"Dirge!" she exclaims in shock.
No, it isn't Dirge. Only a lifesize model of the Covenant's Greater Evil, and former UGWC Entertainment Professional. She raises an eyebrow, but before she can really respond, Dirge's cardboard suit explodes outward in a neat hole on barely a whisper of air. Jenny's eyes go wide as the ballistic rips into her chest and stops her heart.
----------
Jet continues knocking at the apartment door, waiting for Jenny to answer. He rolls his eyes to Forewell Boding, who hasn't even noticed, he is too busy scanning the carpet outside the apartment door. Jet smirks and shakes his head at Forewell's constant vigilance. The next, harder knock pushes the door open, and Jet's smirk fades. He steps in carefully, pausing when he sees the familiar cut of the big man in the light of the bathroom door. Slipping into the shadows to his right, he realizes the depth isn't realisitic, and that it's a cardboard cutout.
Conclusions force themselves through his mind at breakneck speed. He knows Raenius has returned recently. Was this some kind of prank orchestrated by the Resident Evil?
Everything in his mind screeches to a halt when his eye catches the foot just inside the door. He strides toward the scene, but Forewell puts a hand on his shoulder.
"There are wet footprints on the carpet outside the apartment. Really small ones, too small to be human" he passes the information. Forewell steps ahead of Jet, removes a disposable tissue from his pocket, and uses it to push the cardboard mockery of the Covenant's most powerful member aside. He looks in at the scene, then closes his eyes, and shakes his head. "They have been here."
Jet finally forces himself to approach again.
Later he will wish he could unsee the obscene position the body of his trainer was in. He will wish he hadn't read the message scrawled in her blood on the wall.
"From one whore to another: Vengeance will be mine."
----------
"So what are you going to do?" Gian sits on the bench outside the foam pit. Having just completed a routine practice session in preparation for the upcoming battle, he had let it all out and told Gian about Chika Ryuu Ja and the darker measure he had had to resort to in order to not be forced to abandon his sister here... the same sister who had eventually abandoned him in the war.
"Well, I'm going to see if Forewell ever turned up any information on her, see if there are any places she's likely to set up shop or contacts in the area," Jet answers, "From what I understand, she was really well connected all over the world. It was part of her job, and she was good at it."
"You're really going to trust that fruitcake?" Gian looks incredulous.
"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Jet gives a half-worried smile, "And the guy is diligent. Who knows? He might turn up something. Any lead would be useful right now."
"You think she'll show up at In Your Hands?" Gian queries.
"I don't know if she's that bold," Jet shrugs, "I called Kyung-min back, he said she's been pretty sneaky so far... damn covert really. But when I read about the vics in Vegas... I don't know, it's like the closer she gets to what she wants, the sloppier she gets. I don't think she cares what eventually happens to her, as long as she can get to me."
"God, what's that doing for your focus?" Gian winces.
Jet shakes his head, "It's bad enough as it is. Not only does the Consortium not think enough of the division to give me any meaningful opponents, even at a Pay Per View event, and therefore not give me much motivation to defend the championship that I've come to embrace, but the three of us are so mismatched that it's really just going to be a cluster bang out there. A powerhouse, a techie clinch, and a highflier? The fans are going to be more confused than entertained."
"You think either of them could pull it off?" his sparring partner wonders.
"Hey, I've told you before," Jet reminds him, "I like the Aussie Rebels one and all. Great competitors, they don't have some screwed up ulterior agenda they are trying to get over. But I just don't think they are on my level. Well, maybe JK, but Enigma, Ethan King, or even Paul? Nah. This ones in the bag... again."
"Interesting match though... did you see the approved weapons list?" Gian chuckles.
"Yeah, I'm wondering," Jet looks at Gian seriously, "If we are using T-Rob's laptop in the match that night, are results going to be late?"
They both turn and look at you. Yes you. The Reader.
----------
Slowly she extends a muscular but tan leg to cut off the flow of the faucet into the discretionarily bubbly tub. She settles down into the steamy bath, eyes closed, a soft moan of relaxation escaping from deep in her throat. She had put Jet through the guantlet today during their training session. She knew the movesets of his opponents at the upcoming event, and since Jet was no brawler, and he had only lately begun experimenting with high risk moves, he was going to have to be on his toes to split his defense against two guys who, it stood to reason, had worked together in the past. Jet didn't believe either was much of a challenge individually, but together, Jenny believed they could mount enough of an offense to stack up to Jet's impressive abilities. Only his nimbleness that he earned in her class would help keep him from falling under what could be a relentless onslaught from the opposing men in the match.
He had contacted Forewell Boding earlier in the day, trying to see if he had gleaned any information in his search. Jenny had called Owen to get Forewell's number for herself. She'd had something else in mind. A smile crosses her full lips as she realizes Jet would probably have something to say to her about how it made him look to have a bodyguard. Jenny didn't care. If it helped in the end, she was more than happy to take his anger and hurt pride.
A crash outside the bathroom door jerks her out of her reverie and she shot up in the tub, spilling water and a cute rubber ducky with a goatee over the edge of the claw tub. She thrashes around for a towel to wipe her face, then gapes at the door. She stands up, deftly covering herself as water streams from her shapely dancer's body. Cautiously, she eases the door open.
"Dirge!" she exclaims in shock.
No, it isn't Dirge. Only a lifesize model of the Covenant's Greater Evil, and former UGWC Entertainment Professional. She raises an eyebrow, but before she can really respond, Dirge's cardboard suit explodes outward in a neat hole on barely a whisper of air. Jenny's eyes go wide as the ballistic rips into her chest and stops her heart.
----------
Jet continues knocking at the apartment door, waiting for Jenny to answer. He rolls his eyes to Forewell Boding, who hasn't even noticed, he is too busy scanning the carpet outside the apartment door. Jet smirks and shakes his head at Forewell's constant vigilance. The next, harder knock pushes the door open, and Jet's smirk fades. He steps in carefully, pausing when he sees the familiar cut of the big man in the light of the bathroom door. Slipping into the shadows to his right, he realizes the depth isn't realisitic, and that it's a cardboard cutout.
Conclusions force themselves through his mind at breakneck speed. He knows Raenius has returned recently. Was this some kind of prank orchestrated by the Resident Evil?
Everything in his mind screeches to a halt when his eye catches the foot just inside the door. He strides toward the scene, but Forewell puts a hand on his shoulder.
"There are wet footprints on the carpet outside the apartment. Really small ones, too small to be human" he passes the information. Forewell steps ahead of Jet, removes a disposable tissue from his pocket, and uses it to push the cardboard mockery of the Covenant's most powerful member aside. He looks in at the scene, then closes his eyes, and shakes his head. "They have been here."
Jet finally forces himself to approach again.
Later he will wish he could unsee the obscene position the body of his trainer was in. He will wish he hadn't read the message scrawled in her blood on the wall.
"From one whore to another: Vengeance will be mine."