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HYUK HYUK HYUK
- Last Seen: 8 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: #NoFriends
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- Bozo 11 yrs ago
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5 yrs ago
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i forgot this place existed.
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Most Recent Posts
Fuck it, I can't resist. What is this becoming?
Side Character
Considering your rates are pretty cheap, I don't see why not.
*sizzle*
*sizzle*
Can he do that LA Noir thing in which you can pick up "evidence" and manipulate them to find clues?
If you know what k mean....
If you know what k mean....
Humor me for a moment, but Ryoki and Oliver? I feel like their relationship could be something straight out of a gritty detective movie. (Plus their age gap is only 4 years)
"Sorry, toots. But your femme fatale charm won't work on me."
Oliver lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, gently blowing smoke on Ryoki as he continued.
"You'll find me to be the very...unabashed type."
And, that's because I haven't had any direct contact with any other people yet, Takashi-san. :3
I want to see how you folks are gonna react to seeing a room full of bloodied up individuals when start to close down for the night. Ha ha, fuck you Nori, get a mop!
jk bb pls :(
jk bb pls :(
Oliver is now at the Casino.
The Asshole at the club had been helpful.
It turned out the bastard was actually a huge fan.
Nick Weston, nineteen years old...
"I wonder if he goes the academy they have down here?" Oliver wondered aloud, wiping his gloves with the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. He really hoped blood came out of leather...
He found himself back at the lobby, his head swimming with the heavy scent of musk lingering in the air. This place really didn't cater to those older than thirty. There were too many hormones flying everywhere, not enough hard liquor, and really shitty club music. Whoever they hired to DJ in this club was fucking terrible.
Turning his attention back to the swarm of writhing bodies near the front, he saw some dude jumping around on stage without a shirt on.
How tasteless...
A loud monotonous beep rang in his ears as the pager on his waist beeped. Fumbling for it, he brought it up, and saw who it was.
Kashima Iruka
Saturday XX/15 - 9:45 PM
"Play." He spoke flatly into the gadget.
Soon enough, the voice of the woman came through on the tiny speaker.
"Hmm, erm... hello, this is Kashima Iruka here. Is this Mister Holland's office number? If it's, could you please call back at xxxxx-xxxx, I have possible job for you. If I'm wrong, please forgive me. Have a good night, bye."
Luckily the pager model he had was one of the most technologically advanced versions on the market right now. Befitting for a busy man such as himself, it allowed one to reply to phone calls via. text messages. It was a pain to type on such a tiny flip keyboard, but it would suffice. If Miss Iruka had a mobile phone, she would receive his message.
Send me the details via. fax when you have the chance. I'll handle it when I get back to my office. Have a nice weekend.
- Det. Holland
Short and concise, just the way he liked it.
A chilly December breeze greeted Holland as he left Club Lush, the Detective breathing the fresh air deeply, quickly exhaling with great satisfaction.
Now, where did I park my car?
*****
Ah, the Casino.
The place where Shrine City's high rollers and deadbeats gather to burn through some hard earned cash. Good cigars, strong drinks, and beautiful waitresses all awaited him here. This was indeed an establishment for gentlemen.
Ladies too.
A vibrant sea of red and gold greeted as he walked through that revolving door. Velvet carpets, ivory pillars, brass wallpaper...it was beautiful.
"Shall I take your coat, Sir?" The man at the front desk asked.
"Of course, my good man." Oliver chuckled, slipping the man a twenty dollar bill.
Slicking back his hair and rolling his shoulders, he tapped the gleaming badge that was fixated firmly on his ebony vest. And, proudly engraved upon it was: Shrine City Investigation Services Est. 1975
His utility belt swaddled his waist tightly, his equipment jingling with every step, the .38 revolver tucked securely in its holster.
Making his way to the black jack tables, his eyes widened as he gazed upon the fine looking dame talking to that bunny girl waitress.
Hm, I'd like to investigate some of that. Case Note Twenty Three: 'Baby got back.'
It turned out the bastard was actually a huge fan.
Nick Weston, nineteen years old...
"I wonder if he goes the academy they have down here?" Oliver wondered aloud, wiping his gloves with the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. He really hoped blood came out of leather...
He found himself back at the lobby, his head swimming with the heavy scent of musk lingering in the air. This place really didn't cater to those older than thirty. There were too many hormones flying everywhere, not enough hard liquor, and really shitty club music. Whoever they hired to DJ in this club was fucking terrible.
Turning his attention back to the swarm of writhing bodies near the front, he saw some dude jumping around on stage without a shirt on.
How tasteless...
A loud monotonous beep rang in his ears as the pager on his waist beeped. Fumbling for it, he brought it up, and saw who it was.
Kashima Iruka
Saturday XX/15 - 9:45 PM
"Play." He spoke flatly into the gadget.
Soon enough, the voice of the woman came through on the tiny speaker.
"Hmm, erm... hello, this is Kashima Iruka here. Is this Mister Holland's office number? If it's, could you please call back at xxxxx-xxxx, I have possible job for you. If I'm wrong, please forgive me. Have a good night, bye."
Luckily the pager model he had was one of the most technologically advanced versions on the market right now. Befitting for a busy man such as himself, it allowed one to reply to phone calls via. text messages. It was a pain to type on such a tiny flip keyboard, but it would suffice. If Miss Iruka had a mobile phone, she would receive his message.
Send me the details via. fax when you have the chance. I'll handle it when I get back to my office. Have a nice weekend.
- Det. Holland
Short and concise, just the way he liked it.
A chilly December breeze greeted Holland as he left Club Lush, the Detective breathing the fresh air deeply, quickly exhaling with great satisfaction.
Now, where did I park my car?
*****
Ah, the Casino.
The place where Shrine City's high rollers and deadbeats gather to burn through some hard earned cash. Good cigars, strong drinks, and beautiful waitresses all awaited him here. This was indeed an establishment for gentlemen.
Ladies too.
A vibrant sea of red and gold greeted as he walked through that revolving door. Velvet carpets, ivory pillars, brass wallpaper...it was beautiful.
"Shall I take your coat, Sir?" The man at the front desk asked.
"Of course, my good man." Oliver chuckled, slipping the man a twenty dollar bill.
Slicking back his hair and rolling his shoulders, he tapped the gleaming badge that was fixated firmly on his ebony vest. And, proudly engraved upon it was: Shrine City Investigation Services Est. 1975
His utility belt swaddled his waist tightly, his equipment jingling with every step, the .38 revolver tucked securely in its holster.
Making his way to the black jack tables, his eyes widened as he gazed upon the fine looking dame talking to that bunny girl waitress.
Hm, I'd like to investigate some of that. Case Note Twenty Three: 'Baby got back.'
Holy hell, as I type up a continuation, I can see my character turning into Rorschach from Watchmen.
It'd make more sense for it to be the other way around. Bodies as breadcrumbs that lead to her heart.
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