Charlie turned his attention away from the small tv to the larger screen when Nicholas called out Jonathan's name, forcing the latter to switch places. Charlie watched the fight between Nicholas and Chuck Redd in rapt attention; he hadn't expected the fight to go that poorly for Jonathan, but now that he knew, it was much more entertaining to watch. Charlie drank in the brutality of Jonathan's fighting style and relished the unrestrained violence that Jonathan wreaked on Redd's body.

Turning to the rest of the room, Randy said, "I can assume we all enjoyed seeing dear Johnny get shot, right there? I mean, I'm glad he completed the mission, but... schadenfreude is a funny thing."

Charlie looked at Randy and raised an eyebrow before simply smiling. 'Schadenfreude'. That was certainly one way of explaining how much Charlie enjoyed watching others in pain. "Here, here!" he toasted to Randy's statement as Jervis handed them the dossiers of their next mission. He was surprised that there were five targets this time, and wondered if they got partial payment for each or if it was all one sum upon completion.

As the deed was over with, he grabbed a mirror with intention to switch back. Saying the first name that came to his mind: "Chaaaaarley"- in a sing song voice.

But before he had a chance to flip through the files for a closer inspection, he heard his name being called, and the way it was being said by Jonathan made him want to scrape his skin clean. Not only that, he felt it in his soul as it dragged him out of the Deadly Room and into the world of the living. "...asshole..." Charlie muttered under his breath as he tiptoed around the deceased body of Chuck Redd, making his way out of the hotel and past some recently arriving police who had been notified on the sounds of gunshots, fighting, and destruction. They paid little attention to the small child making his way across the street.

Nicholas Jones

Nick shot a glare in Jonathan’s direction, grabbing his beer and draining the glass. He felt more than half tempted to smash the glass on the man’s wounded shoulder. It wouldn’t be the most minor thing he’d gotten into a brawl over. Still, he was at least trying to keep his temper in check. After all, Nick liked to view himself as the leader of the group – whether or not any of the others viewed him that way – and so he liked to hold himself up to certain standards. Even if those standards make it really hard not to strangle that little bastard.

As the dossiers were placed down, Nick grabbed one at random and opened it roughly. Shawna Corvin. He skimmed through it curiously. It was rather disturbing, not that he’d admit it. As he read through the other dossiers, they all had that same uncanny feeling about them. Especially the youngest one. Still, Nick didn’t feel particularly concerned. The prospect of having a more long-term job with multiple targets invigorated him.

“Shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Nick said, pouring himself another beer. “Got to agree with Bill though, we should try and get some more information.” He took another swig of beer, examining the dossiers again. "Though if I had to pick one to start with, I'd say the stalker bitch. You two have been paying some special attention to her, after all," Nick said with a grin, gesturing towards Randy and Alejandra.

Alejandra Jones

How conceited, Alejandra thought as she looked over Riley Corvin’s dossier. The background given to her was the least unsettling and a jealous killer seemed like a good target. With a shrug, she moved over Marina’s file. As she read the last few words of her death, she touched over them, seeing the imagery as through her own eyes. Poor girl chased then leftover forgotten. The cruelty Marina had faced was a common scene in Alejandra’s memories. Feelings of pain, anger, and frustration were a reminder to those times. But a target was to begone, whether for other's sake or for their own.



Alejandra gave but an eye roll as Jonathan would take the place of Charlie. Would have been nice if he would be shot a second or third time. With a scoot in the other direction, she looked over Delores’s file once more. It wasn’t quite a special treatment as Nick would say, for all targets had to be taken at some point. Not that she could speak on the behalf of Randy, but for her, something about the file gave her an off feeling. Not now...

"Si,” she answered to Raissa, then turning to Nick. "But that doesn’t exclude the other ones in mind. We currently don’t know how powerful they are, as Bill said. This is a new experience waiting for us and I'd not pick until we've thought about it...They do seem to affect a mass of events… pero..”

She looked down at the dossier files, tapping her fingering as she listened to the others share their own opinion. As the unnerving questions sprang into her mind, she rubbed her jaw in thought. Surely there will be spotting's of their activities... But when and where? What about their advantages against us? How are we going to plan this? Alejandra gave a slight shook and took a breath. There has to be a connection somewhere…

“Maybe... the fatality of their death or the impact of their original experiences determine their strengths. With that in mind, I propose we could start with one of these two.” Alejandra spoke with a bite at her lip, holding up the two dossiers of Marina and Riley before putting them down on the end table. “We should start off small to find out what sort special treatment we should give them. And I’m sure we don’t want take a chance with someone with no information given or with someone who is potentially stronger than us, right?”

Jervis finisished cleaning a glass to its pristine glory while listening to the Jones family discuss the dossiers, after Alejandro made her statement about the two they could possibly start with, Jervis came to the conclusion that the group were leaning towards Marina Corvin. Luckily for the group Jervis had already started on his investigation for finding the girls during the Chuck Redd contract so he already had a lead. He walked calmly over to the large television set and hit a button on the remote. Which brought up an image on the screen and started playing a tune for the jukebox.





I have good information that the very beautiful Marina Corvin is hiding in a rural part of New England, but to narrow that down youll have to get some information out of one of her victims back in the 90s, his name was Jackson Sparks a teenage rebel type that Marina murdered when he ran away from his alcoholic father. As you can see, we have tracked his car he is actually in Chicago at the moment, he's a classic ghost, likes to scare young women in the night. One of you will have to steal a car in the area an catch up to him quickly, I can provide you directions through the night. You need to confront him for information, and then ultimately kill him again and seal him away for good.

Jervis smiled coldly and picked up the phone.

Master Charles, we have an assignment which requires grand theft auto. Seeing as you are too young to drive its probably best you switch with someone else here. But if you find an automobile you like the look of, feel free to point it out to us. See you soon sir.

Jervis collected the glasses of those who had finished their drinks and turned back to the group.

Anyone's drinks need freshining up?

"You poetic types really like your authors, huh...?" Rhetorically quizzed Raissa toward Randy's statement about... judges and fantasy, or something. Though hearing him freak out about Dolores made the magician smile. "What, never seen a dead girl in your time, Randy? I forgot how much'a virgin you are at this killin' thing. She's really nothing special; I saw worse back in Rio." Her tone and words were conflicting, to say the least. Although she spoke of seeing such atrocities before, for whatever reason the young woman kept smiling even as she said it.

Then again, she wasn't really the sensitive type.

Raissa released a brief chuckle as Charlie 'poofed' out of existence, and Jonathan took her- err, his place.

God, she could never get her head around that.

The others discussed things like getting information on their target and strategy, however Raissa was becoming increasingly bored with it already. Thankfully, Jervis, the beautiful son of a bitch that he was, decided to choose for them! Although her happiness was short lived when they found out that driving would be a necessary skill for the coming operation. "Filho da puta!" Her grumbling made it clear that this was not her being joyful. Rather she was pissed because she couldn't drive, and thus wouldn't be of any use whatsoever on this mission. "Stupid car ghost and his stupid car; who does he think he is? Taking to the streets like a moron. Whose ever heard of a driving ghost? God, that's so dumb. I swear if I see him in Hell I'm going to beat him to death with a yo-yo. GoddammitIhatethisstupidcontractalreadywhydoestheworldhatemeI'mbeingmelodramaticbecauseIdidn'tgetenoughattentionasachildpleasedon'tbemeantomesadface." Of course, all of this was muttered under her breath or barely audible, though anyone close enough might've been able to hear the grumblings themselves. Out of frustration she threw another card at the dart board, this time without looking, hitting the man with the card in his throat square in the forehead.

Ouch.

"I'm gonna try nap this off." She said as she lay down on the couch, defeated. She didn't bother requesting silence - it wouldn't come and Raissa knew it. That was the worst part about living with seven other people in a lone room: no privacy. At least the music was rather relaxing and gentle...

'Actually, now that I think about it... can we renovate this place...? I'll have to ask Jerv...'

Jervis smiled coldly and picked up the phone.

Master Charles, we have an assignment which requires grand theft auto. Seeing as you are too young to drive its probably best you switch with someone else here. But if you find an automobile you like the look of, feel free to point it out to us. See you soon sir.

Charlie took Jervis' message with a modicum of distaste. When it came to being treated like a kid, he was fine with being coddled, but hated having his actions restricted due to his age. If it had been anyone other than Jervis telling him this, he might have been snarkier. A rebellious part of him wanted to just smash a window and take a car out for a dangerous and chaotic joyride. However, Charlie had no knowledge of cars, let alone how to hotwire one. But if he was at least being given the right to choose their vehicle, then by golly, he would take it.

So Charlie wandered the streets, passing by cheap cars, expensive cars, big cars, small cars, slow cars, fast cars; he maybe took a little longer than the other seven probably would have liked, but he was on a mission. There's gotta be one around here, somewhere, Charlie thought to himself, and then he saw it:



Some car hobbyists prized possession, an antique form that Charlie was much more comfortable with. He walked up to the car, admiring it, and looked around to see if he could locate the owner anywhere. He couldn't. Smiling, Charlie walked over to the side mirror, making sure no one was around for the moment, and looked at himself. "Randy."

Flashing back into the Deadly Room, Charlie picked up the files that he hadn't been able to read yet, but instead of perusing them, looked eagerly at the large screen, hoping that Randy wouldn't subvert his choice and go for another vehicle.

The driving, the chase, this brought back memories. You see, Jonathan wasn't the perfect husband and there was a lot of “marital conflict” in the family, though it leaned more towards one sided abuse. So there was no surprise when his wife wanted to leave him. He always remembered her first attempt, the first and the last as he made sure to engrave a lesson on what happens when a property runs from its owner. The whole thing was gruesome.

It began when his wife left the bed one night, not to return, and upon waking up by the powerful engine of his car he noticed her absence. Before he even had a chance to get up the car roared as it dashed forward, through the estate gate and into the road. “That bitch dared to leave him?”- were his rage fueled thoughts.
”Properties should know their fucking place”- he continued in a murmur.
Without wearing anything else beside his bed robe, he hopped into his other car and gave chase immediately.

The girl was full of adrenaline, anxious, scared but at last she almost felt released by that man's horrid grasp. To feel truly free she would have to get out of his property, which was considerably large mind you. Now to understand what happens next you have to understand the road she was following. The manor was at the top of a hill which ended in a cliff at one side and a forest in the other. This road snaked from one side of the hill to the other, slithering through the forest until it reached the bottom. Now here's what Jonathan did…

Looking back one more time the girl felt a little relief that she wasn't followed. That relief was short lived. The faint sound of an engine could be heard coming from the forest that lead to the mansion. The sound only continued to grow as lights could now be seen piercing through the forest flora.
The bushes rustled for a moment then..
“It can't be.. He's not tha-”

The car leaped from the high ground crashing straight to the other one. Both people were sent flying but luckily for Jonathan he was thrown out during the jump, the momentum carrying him over to the other side of the road and into the greenery which softened his fall. Not so luckily for his wife property which lay bleeding on the ground with a piece of metal protruding through the side of her abdomen.

“Sir, are you alright?”- one of the guards while towering above Jonathan's semi unconscious form. “ha..hehe..AHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *cough cough* *more pained laughter*”- Jonathan had broken into a frenzied laughter only stopped by the sharp pain at his side. Probably a few broken ribs, otherwise just minor injuries. The main thing was that the lesson was learned, learned and forever engraved in her mind and body.

And learn she did, as she learned to kill him instead of running….Good memories.

Getting back to the present he continued: "You got taste kid, now let's see if our Randy has any skill in driving."- he remarked after finally raising up his head from the files. He got a particular.. rush when reading Marina's file, Dolly coming second. He would definitely love tormenting those girls, how he would take his sweet time with them.

Walking for the couch, he leaped from the back to land in a sitting position. Making himself comfortable with his bottle of whisky as a pacifier he observed Randy while in anticipation of the moment when he would break those girls.

Abigail had to cease her bar stool spinning antics as people continued to pop in and out of existence around her. She hadn't been with the Deadly Eight long, so the antics of everyone switching in and out of one body definitely got her head spinning. The whole experience was almost a bit surreal to her, or perhaps that was just the vibe Jervis was going for with the jazzy, lounge-esque Deadly Room. Abigail set the targets' files down at this point. She never was too adept at the art of preplanning. The way she rolled, the only thing she prepared was plans to blow things up. Her logic worked much better under the threat of gunfire. Or at least, that's what Abigail thought. Maybe she was just lazy.

For a moment, Abigail intently watched Jervis as he spoke through the phone to Charlie. That phone definitely brought back halcyon memories of Abigail's first few months in the Deadly Room. Oh how fun it had been to toy with the assassins during their missions, and oh how sad she was when Jervis then disallowed her from further using the phone. That was definitely one detail that most of her comrades would have picked up about Abigail: She almost never took anything seriously around here. Life er-... Unlife was all a game to Abigail.

"Well that's an interesting choice..." Speaking to no one in particular, Abigail's eyes traced the vintage vehicle that Charlie chose. She had some experience with cars, but none at all with this sort. It was also probably worth mentioning that most of Abigail's experience with vehicles revolved around either destroying them, using them to destroy other things, or getaway driving. Abigail definitely had a... unique skill set. "It looks like it couldn't even breach fifty miles an hour. Let's hope nothing goes wrong during the mission... Our escape might crumble to dust when we need it." The girl gave a short chuckle continuing to watch, though as Charlie switched places with Randy, Abigail's demeanor seemed to change near instantaneously. A smile crossed her face, her eyes came alight with a certain glow of excitement, and her posture perked up to make her look more presentable.

"Ah Charlie! Welcome back! Perfect execution of an escape as usual, and not to mention the lovely choice of vehicle. My compliments to your contribution as always!" Her voice was soft, almost baby-ish. Abigail was always so allured by the young assassin's delicate and charming appearance. Of course, Abigail completely disregarded any sort of flaws she saw in Charlie. He was too perfect for those. She continued her shower of praise for a moment longer whether Charlie was listening or not. This had no doubt become a common occurrence, happening nearly every conversation Abigail had with Charlie ever since she was brought to the Deadly Room.

@OppositionJ

Since he met Abigail, Charlie had treated her in a hot-and-cold manner; sometimes putting up with her doting, other times rejecting it. Neither reaction seemed to change her behavior, so he decided that this time, he would just play along. "I did good, didn't I, Abby?" Charlie said, flashing her a self-satisfied smile and making himself approachable. Of course, he knew very well that he was bullshitting; all he had done was wander out onto the streets and look at a car, but he wanted to play himself up, knowing that by encouraging Abigail, and by being an insufferable little prick and exaggerating his own contributions, the two of them would probably annoy the Hell out of the others, and that was Charlie's favorite pastime.

Flipping through the dossiers, he zeroed in on their current target that the others had chosen in his brief absence. The first thing he noticed was the age, and a look of disgust passed very quickly over his face. While he hated adults, he could stand teenagers and young adults even less. he saw them as hypocrites, wannabe adults who abandoned their honesty as children to become the liars that grownups were. Going through the rest, he noticed all of the them were more-or-less in their teens, with on being 21, but then the last one was his age; and there was no information on her. He smirked, and figured this case might be interesting after all.

“Very well,” she replied to the decision. “Now to the Sparks… ”

There was a slight relief that came over her as the target was chosen, then after left confused on to why she felt that. Am I… anxious? Missions were truly a thrill to execute and targets weren’t too much to handle. But, had the hunt finally got to her? What was so different from this case from the other cases? She massaged her temple and sighed, thinking too much doesn’t help anyway.

Lifting her head, Alejandra couldn’t help but listen to the grumbling of her partner latina, Raissa. Training the ear did have its benefits as a skill, though she would hate being accused of being nosy or intrusive. She chuckled at the odd rambling, seeing how quite well their personalities contrasted but didn’t seem to clash when in conversation. At least she served as a good distraction.

Alejandra looked back to the large monitor in curiosity on to which vehicle they would drive. The choice was admirable, its appearance seeming to be polished to a shine with great care. “Es una pena,” she sighed. She hoped the owner would be able to find it… in one piece. Sure, she could trust Randy with the wheel better than the others, but what more of this ghost’s driving? She was set on getting the job done quickly.

Though the many worries of the task at hand, she was still intrigued the old vehicle. Never once had she seen such an antique in her lifetime, she being the newest of the eight. The most she had seen of a vehicle were her homeland’s artillery trucks that would constantly raid and kill the indigenous and peasants on a common basis. On foot, Alejandra had crossed the Mexican border with her family, never then owning a car until she and her siblings earned enough money to afford one. Due to her then inexperience, she’d hire others to drive for her in fear she’d hurt herself.

"One of these days..." she murmured in dissatisfaction.

When Randy appeared in the street-side parking lot, in front of the vintage car, he took one glance and sighed in appreciation. "1939 Pierce-Arrow. Good choice. Was commissioned to men of wealth and taste. Quite roomy as well, for cars of its' time. I almost wish you hadn't picked it, Charlie. I'm not a burglar, ya know, so I'mma have to go the direct route to open the car."

Still a bit down about what he had to do, Randy looked around for a suitable tool, and finding a chunk of concrete the size of his fist, hefted it. "I'm sorry, you beautiful, beautiful vehicle. I didn't want to do this." Smashing the chunk of concrete into the window, Randy looked away, covering his face with his other hand as glass shards flew towards him. Dropping the chunk of concrete, Randy reached through the now-broken pane of glass, and unlocked the door from the inside. Opening the door, Randy cringed as the glass crunched underfoot.

Sitting in the front seat, Randy removed the panel under the steering column, and working quickly, before anyone nearby could investigate the sound of shattering glass, Randy hotwired the classic car, driving off in a peal of rubber, surprised at the get-up-and-go the classic car had. Owner must've replaced the engine.

Wind blowing through his hair, Randy drove off towards his objective.

...
...
...

Sleep was boring as Hell in the afterlife. Especially when it's essentially impossible to sleep when you're dead, and even more so when surrounded by such noisy comrades. Charlie and Randy switched places, Abigail and Jonathan's voice grated the ears, and she could've sworn Alejandra chuckled at her desperation for peace. Today was not Raissa's day.

Thankfully, she could find solace in the song which ticked over on the jukebox in the Deadly Room. "Yes. YES! Ooooohh there is a God! I love you, jukebox!" Suddenly Raissa was up and in front of the jukebox, hugging the machine and nuzzling it like a puppy, her ear close to the speakers so she can hear the song better. It also meant she could protect it if anyone went against her choice in music. They probably wouldn't want to get close to the psycho with the metal throwing cards...

"I'll take a drink, Jerv-sweetie~!" She says in a much happier tone than before, her sporadic nature being rather common in the Deadly Room. It almost sounded like she were flirting with him, though it appeared as though the jukebox would be the one getting that kind of attention from Raissa tonight. "Also Jerv, quick question: can we get, like, private rooms in here and stuff? I was thinking about renovating the place, make it more homely and less cramped." As soon as she finished speaking she began humming the tune of the song, picking up mid-verse with surprising memory skill.