Roleplayer Guild - Forum Roleplaying Games

Tristan leaned against the wall and looked at the stars, it was a wonderful night indeed. No clouds only the moon and stars looking down at the people of planet earth. Tristan had been looking at the stars for a while and then shaked his head, it was time for a phonecall. Reaching into an pocket he came out with an cheap phone and dialled a number, he waited and after the 5th ring a voice answered.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are by calling me so late! You Dutch are really the most insane people I've ever met!"

Tristan rolled his eyes and answered, his voice calm and businesslike. "Mr Parks?"

"Yeah I'm Parks and who the f*ck are you!"

Tristan reached with his free hand in another pocket and came out with a small, black device and stared at it. "My name is unimportan mr Parks... what you have done is, killed any assassins lately?"

"Wha... who is this!?"

"Look under your bed mr Parks."

"I... wha... what do yo-"

"Look under your bed mr Parks, that will explain everything." Tristan heard that the phone on the other end was put down and heard someone moving, it was quiet for a moment and then Tristan heard someone cursing. When the cursing starts Tristan pressed the button on the device he was holding in his hand.

He heard an explosion and the ground shuddered under his feet for a moment. Slowly Tristan placed the device back in his pocket, walked to a trashcan and threw the phone away. Walking slowly away while some people ran onto the streets yelling what was going on.

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"Every night, darlin'-what d'you think I am, some kinda pig?" he said with a roll of his eyes and a chuckle as he looked to her, every inch a toned Irishman just leaning back and enjoying the night, with the underlying understanding that he was one of the most proficient close combat specialists in the guild (he joked that Balir had learned everything he knew about brawling from him, though he doubted if anyone had crossed that with the kid to check) and everything that entailed.

"And I know whatcha mean, but y'might think twice about goin' after guildsmen. Some people take offense t'that, y'know, and they're not all quite as cuddly as me." he said with a grin. "Besides, what's th'worst joke they've played on ya? It can't be too bad."

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"Ah, Eggs and Bacon." Harlan smirked, his had silently holstering his pistol; instead it came up holding a phone, his thumb depressing the PTT button.
"This is one, who's up?" He said casually, before savoring a bite of bacon.
"Two's up." A feminine voice replied, the sound of a movie in the background.
"Three doesn't sleep." A chilly voice responded, the clack of machine parts echoing in the background.

"Four's up now, you fucking vampires." A voice as old as Harlan growled, sounds indicating someone fumbling with a nightstand. Chuckles filled the PTT for a moment, and even Harlan smirked; when it died down, he continued.
"I've got work for all of you; two recruits, one soft, the other soft-boiled; need a Meet and Greet tomorrow, my place, usual time." Harlan informed, checking his watch.

"Anything for you, Stephen. Two, out."
"Sure. Three, out."
"There better be coffee. Four, out."

"If there's anything you want to do, I'd do it before eight in the morning; because at that time you better be waiting in this diner for me, in this booth. You're not going to get much free time, because I give an accelerated course... so whatever you do, do it while you can." He said calmly, continuing to eat his meal.

"I'm open to questions, until I finish breakfast."

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"When they ask how I died, tell them; Still Angry." -Quellcrist Falconer
"It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.
It was Rorschach who opened them again." -Rorschach

Beth relaxed into a grin, "I try not to think about it, I've been hit with everything from spiked drinks to exploding remotes, which is why none of them are allowed to know where I live."

Out of all her fellow assasins in the guild, Johnny was one of the few that she easily got along with, she was pretty sure he was not one of the practical jokers.

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Questions… questions…

Gary sat back and pondered a few moments. He didn’t really have anything to do before the morning; his life was pretty easy to walk away from. He had no good friends, no serious woman in his life. He basically had to pack some clothes and he was done. He got a bit sad thinking about how little his life meant, but was excited to actually, finally, make something of it.

“I haven’t got any serious questions really, I’m still a bit in awe that this is actually happening. How does the system work? People pay us to kill their enemies?”

The power you must feel from taking a life must be immense. Gary had been on the verge so many times, pounding an opponent to the brink of death. But to pass that line… that must be a completely different feeling of power. It scared him and excited him at the same time. He wondered who his first would be, what it would feel like. He could get used to that kind of power.

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"That's usually how this goes, though it's very... economical situation. People pay the corporation, and a job order is written up; then, an available agent is tasked with handling the exhumation." Stephen Harlan took a bite and chewed it for a long time, his gaze on the swirling coffee in his cup; he seemed distant for a moment, before looking back up.

"Do you like the idea of killing, Gary?" The question seemed rather sudden.
"I need to know right now if I'm training some kind of psychopath; do you get off on the idea? Of butchering people for no reason other than you're being paid to do it? Would you kill a little girl if ordered too?" The questions were harsh and grating, and the Assassin's eyes seemed to pierce his very soul... and then they went back to his food, his face showing no other emotion than appreciation of a tasty breakfast.

"Answer when you can, but I want the truth."

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"When they ask how I died, tell them; Still Angry." -Quellcrist Falconer
"It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.
It was Rorschach who opened them again." -Rorschach

OOC: I feel bad posting so much and leaving other people behind.

The waitress came again and Gary stared at his food while pondering the questions the assassin had just asked. Kill a little girl…? Maybe I’m not what they’re looking for…

“Look. I think I can take a life. I think that, for the right price, I could kill someone. Someone who, in someone else’s eyes, deserves to die. And I think there’s a certain ‘cool’ factor or ‘power’ factor to being the person who brings them justice or revenge or whatever. There's a certain coolness to be being that person. But I cant just take life for no reason. I cant be… that person. If that’s what you’re looking for, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’d rather you killed me now than made me kill some little girl.”

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"Sounds like you've just got to have a sense of humor about it, darlin', or else make 'em realize that they're likely to be messin' with a bit more fire'n they thought." he suggested before he leaned back and cracked his neck with a slight groan, the toned muscles that corded at his shoulders irritatingly knotted for some reason.

"In any case, shall I give boyo a call? If I'm just gonna be sittin' around doin' nothin', I might as well do it in some fancy French mansion." he said with a laugh, pulling out his phone and spinning it easily around his hand before clicking in Balir's number and letting it ring, waiting for his boss to answer first.

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"They're going to want you to kill whoever they say... little girls not withstanding. If you deny them, they may try to kill you... unless you can scare them. I beat my handler to death for trying to give me a little girl mission. I'm glad to hear you're of the same mind." Stephen said calmly, before standing and tossing a large tip on the table.

"You've passed the first lesson, kid; but tomorrow we'll see if you're hardboiled."

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"When they ask how I died, tell them; Still Angry." -Quellcrist Falconer
"It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.
It was Rorschach who opened them again." -Rorschach

"Oh, yes. Hauk. A mission... right." Balir walked briskly back into the compound, swiping his keycard without a thought and opening the unobtrusive glass doors that lay at the bottom of a staircase seemingly randomly put into the side of a hill. The entrance area was placed underground, so as to not be too tempting for curious beach-goers who ignored the "CE COIN DE LA PLAGE EST BORNÉ" (this area of the beach is restricted) signs. Flipping through his PDA Balir spoke again.

"Let's see... Hauk. How do you feel about France? Don't answer that. You're going there anyway. Nice is a French city where one Madame LaRoche lives. She has been embezzling massive amounts of money from the local government, but because of her connections, nobody can touch her. Legally, that is. You're to take her out, Hauk. That's all the information I have for you." Balir hung up the phone. He decided he'd go to his office and manage some missions, then oversee some close combat training for the Recruits.

Entering his office, payed no attention to the many knick-knacks that would have someone unfamiliar with the dwelling occupied in wonder for hours. Balir's desk was the same desk of many assassins kings before him. The large bureau was kept in pristine condition, always polished and always finished so that no scratches marred its surface. On it rested many papers that Balir had been grappling with the night before, and his computer, still on. Before sitting down in his office chair (which was designed for someone much larger than himself), Balir grabbed a random paper. It was entitled, "Custodial and Internal Operations Management Staff Salary Renewal Contract". Balir groaned. He really needed to hire a secretary to manage this kind of crap...

Balir did a 180 and left his office. As he stepped out onto the upper level of the compound, he walked down a nearby staircase and into the Training Wing nexus, where all the hallways to the firing ranges and training grounds connected to. Balir liked his office near the Training Wing, because it meant that the firing range or martial arts ring was always nearby when he needed to relieve some stress. And then, his phone rang. Balir gave up on trying to be angry and just answered the phone.

"Who," Balir paused and gave a sigh. "Who is this, and what do you want?

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"I do not fear death because I was dead for thousands of years before I was alive and it caused me no inconvenience." - Mark Twain

Also, this.