Korbanjaro Member
The Rogue Rook
STATUS: We are each an extra in someone else's movie. But we get to decide if it's a speaking part. 9 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 125 (0.03 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Korbanjaro 10 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
We are each an extra in someone else's movie. But we get to decide if it's a speaking part.
2
likes
10 yrs ago
Currently looking for people for The Continental - Hoping we can get some traction going.
Bio
I'm no stranger to writing and roleplays, having written in quite a few over the years. I try to put a lot of thought into my characters, and even more into the projects that I take on, and I hold myself to a pretty high standard.
For me, the story is king, not my characters, and I write with that in mind. Inter-connectivity and relationships between the different characters in a roleplay are what make the writing interesting, and that means that writers need to avoid selfishly making their characters the constant center of attention. As such, I try to write by a very specific maxim:
Write for the story, not for your glory.
If you've got an RP that you think I might be able to add to, please feel free to shoot me a message. Glad to be here!
Most Recent Posts
Fun? Fun?? What would make you think this is for fun?? This will be work ONLY! There will be no fun! This will be a literary dictatorship!
Hey, that could be an interesting character. Possibly a villain, or an unwilling villain. We currently don't have any real links to Atomic, and that would certainly throw them into the mix. We should really consider that angle. (I don't really know what the plans are as far as Atomic are concerned, but I assume they're not necessarily good guys.)
@HellHound
Hopefully that gives you some stuff to work with. I'd really like Carter's little misunderstanding to escalate, but I wanted to give you some room to set Reverb up, if you want. Or, if it's true that Reverb is working for the Family, that's actually very cool, as well. Ball is in your court, dude.
Hopefully that gives you some stuff to work with. I'd really like Carter's little misunderstanding to escalate, but I wanted to give you some room to set Reverb up, if you want. Or, if it's true that Reverb is working for the Family, that's actually very cool, as well. Ball is in your court, dude.
"Feel free to slam the shit out of him," Reverb smiled, glancing at Benny to get the mobster's clearly wide-eyed reaction.
Carter thought on this for a moment. He knew very little about this man, Benny the Knife, and even less about his new companion, Reverb. Even further, he had no desire to carry out an interrogation in the middle of an alley, in the rain, no less.
He glanced about the alley, and saw that there was only one door, with the words "Plugged-Up Plumbing" displayed prominantly on the faded white paint.
As good a place as any.
Carter stepped forward, gripping Benny's collar with his right hand, before shoving him into the wall near the door.
"A move or a sound," stated Carter coolly. "And you'll go back to your boys without teeth."
Benny was a surpringly talented quick-learner at the quiet game.
Carter reached into one of his drop pouches, and produced a small lockpick and a tension wrench. He glanced at the lock, jimmied the wrench into place for a quick test before inserting the pick. A six quick clicks later, and the the deadbolt spun open with a satisfying 'thunk.'
He pulled open the door, and shoved Benny inside, retrieving his shield on the way.
44.6 seconds. I'm losing my touch.
The plumbing shop had a remarkably well-organized back room, especially for a place so filled with varieties of items. Pipes and fittings of every size, shape, and material filled shelves to the ceiling. A workbench area in the center of the room had little but a small table and two chairs.
The table soon found itself on the other side of the room. Instead, a cuffed Benny Tramunte sat silently in its place.
Carter stood across from the man, leaning against one of the shelves, his helmet still not betraying his piercing glare. He studied the man for a moment, noticing the rain dripping down his face, but the clear sense of panic as he glanced from Riot to Reverb, then back to Riot again.
Benny, you've found yourself between a rock and a hard place tonight, and I'm truly not sure which is which.
"Mr. Tramunte," said Carter finally. "You may have put together that I'm looking to get a couple questions answered. How this proceeds is entirely up to you."
Carter stood up straight, and began pacing, slowly.
"You answer my questions correctly, and I'll leave you to the capable hands of my associate, here. You don't..."
Carter pulled a length of lead pipe from one of the racks.
"And you may not walk out of here at all."
"As much as he deserves death I need him alive to get paid," reminded Reverb. Riot turned and looked at him, the mask hiding his features, but the silence clearly portraying surprise at his being interrupted.
"But," continued the man, "A few broken bones won't hurt him."
Benny was clearly not comforted.
"What the fuck do you want!?"
Carter reached into his other drop pouch, and unfolded four photos, each of a different victim. Each had had their throat slit, and lay unmoving in a pool of their own blood.
They had been slit and left to bleed out. Gruesome, but effective.
Riot showed these photos to Benny.
"Four deaths, initially unrelated, but you and I know the truth." Carter showed the first photo. "Anthony Bonanno." The next. "Anthony Tuzzo. Pasquale Solano. Joseph Orena. Notice a pattern?"
"Hey, there's a lot of Italians in this neighba-hood."
"But each of these were prominant risers in the West End families. Each of these men were in the same position as you, Benny, and that's got me curious."
"You can't prove nothing, Riot," said Benny, suddenly a little smug. "You ain't no cop."
"You're right," agreed Riot. He tapped the pipe in hand. "The police of this city are just another arm of the Castelvatrano Empire. The Family's got them in their back pockets. But me..."
Carter, now directly behind Benny, laid the pipe on the man's shoulder.
"I'm not bound by those rules."
He leaned forward.
"Tell me about the hits, Benny. Who put them out?"
"Fuck you! You kill me, you get nothin!"
"Maybe the satisfaction of cleaning you off the street. Like crushing a bug underneath my boot."
"Those hits weren't even in my neighborhood! I own up past 32nd. Anything south of that is Gambetti's turf!"
Gambetti. Anthony Gambetti. Minor Don in the Castelvatrano Family, but easily one of the most ruthless. Though operates on the upper west, his muscle has been pressing south. He fits. Damn it.
But then there was another question that came to mind. If Benny didn't commit those hits, then that would mean that someone else was cleaning house. But there had been no eyewitnesses of mob hitmen in the area.
It wasn't until Carter noticed the red and black out of the corner of his eye that his internal alarm started to sound.
Could it be that Reverb was operating on Gambetti's behalf? On behalf of the Family?
There's certainly one way to try and find out.
"Benny, what's your family like?"
Carter thought on this for a moment. He knew very little about this man, Benny the Knife, and even less about his new companion, Reverb. Even further, he had no desire to carry out an interrogation in the middle of an alley, in the rain, no less.
He glanced about the alley, and saw that there was only one door, with the words "Plugged-Up Plumbing" displayed prominantly on the faded white paint.
As good a place as any.
Carter stepped forward, gripping Benny's collar with his right hand, before shoving him into the wall near the door.
"A move or a sound," stated Carter coolly. "And you'll go back to your boys without teeth."
Benny was a surpringly talented quick-learner at the quiet game.
Carter reached into one of his drop pouches, and produced a small lockpick and a tension wrench. He glanced at the lock, jimmied the wrench into place for a quick test before inserting the pick. A six quick clicks later, and the the deadbolt spun open with a satisfying 'thunk.'
He pulled open the door, and shoved Benny inside, retrieving his shield on the way.
44.6 seconds. I'm losing my touch.
The plumbing shop had a remarkably well-organized back room, especially for a place so filled with varieties of items. Pipes and fittings of every size, shape, and material filled shelves to the ceiling. A workbench area in the center of the room had little but a small table and two chairs.
The table soon found itself on the other side of the room. Instead, a cuffed Benny Tramunte sat silently in its place.
Carter stood across from the man, leaning against one of the shelves, his helmet still not betraying his piercing glare. He studied the man for a moment, noticing the rain dripping down his face, but the clear sense of panic as he glanced from Riot to Reverb, then back to Riot again.
Benny, you've found yourself between a rock and a hard place tonight, and I'm truly not sure which is which.
"Mr. Tramunte," said Carter finally. "You may have put together that I'm looking to get a couple questions answered. How this proceeds is entirely up to you."
Carter stood up straight, and began pacing, slowly.
"You answer my questions correctly, and I'll leave you to the capable hands of my associate, here. You don't..."
Carter pulled a length of lead pipe from one of the racks.
"And you may not walk out of here at all."
"As much as he deserves death I need him alive to get paid," reminded Reverb. Riot turned and looked at him, the mask hiding his features, but the silence clearly portraying surprise at his being interrupted.
"But," continued the man, "A few broken bones won't hurt him."
Benny was clearly not comforted.
"What the fuck do you want!?"
Carter reached into his other drop pouch, and unfolded four photos, each of a different victim. Each had had their throat slit, and lay unmoving in a pool of their own blood.
They had been slit and left to bleed out. Gruesome, but effective.
Riot showed these photos to Benny.
"Four deaths, initially unrelated, but you and I know the truth." Carter showed the first photo. "Anthony Bonanno." The next. "Anthony Tuzzo. Pasquale Solano. Joseph Orena. Notice a pattern?"
"Hey, there's a lot of Italians in this neighba-hood."
"But each of these were prominant risers in the West End families. Each of these men were in the same position as you, Benny, and that's got me curious."
"You can't prove nothing, Riot," said Benny, suddenly a little smug. "You ain't no cop."
"You're right," agreed Riot. He tapped the pipe in hand. "The police of this city are just another arm of the Castelvatrano Empire. The Family's got them in their back pockets. But me..."
Carter, now directly behind Benny, laid the pipe on the man's shoulder.
"I'm not bound by those rules."
He leaned forward.
"Tell me about the hits, Benny. Who put them out?"
"Fuck you! You kill me, you get nothin!"
"Maybe the satisfaction of cleaning you off the street. Like crushing a bug underneath my boot."
"Those hits weren't even in my neighborhood! I own up past 32nd. Anything south of that is Gambetti's turf!"
Gambetti. Anthony Gambetti. Minor Don in the Castelvatrano Family, but easily one of the most ruthless. Though operates on the upper west, his muscle has been pressing south. He fits. Damn it.
But then there was another question that came to mind. If Benny didn't commit those hits, then that would mean that someone else was cleaning house. But there had been no eyewitnesses of mob hitmen in the area.
It wasn't until Carter noticed the red and black out of the corner of his eye that his internal alarm started to sound.
Could it be that Reverb was operating on Gambetti's behalf? On behalf of the Family?
There's certainly one way to try and find out.
"Benny, what's your family like?"
I think someone of that calibur might be a little outside of our current scope - I feel like we're going for kind of a "Watchmen"-esque vibe, with (mostly) regular people using street-level abilities to battle against a governmental juggernaut.
Having a city-leveler like Iron Man or a cosmic-leveler like Green Lantern in the mix would drastically put them outside of the fight, much in the same way that Doctor Manhattan has little to contribute to the story except as a catalyst.
Having a city-leveler like Iron Man or a cosmic-leveler like Green Lantern in the mix would drastically put them outside of the fight, much in the same way that Doctor Manhattan has little to contribute to the story except as a catalyst.
Really looking forward to getting started on this - Lots of interesting personalities to mix together. I'm sure that won't be volatile at all! <grin>
"Good evening," said the man in the helmet. "You seem to have lost your way."
The rain was starting to pour down, bouncing over Carter's helmet, and drizzling down his uniform. Though the shell was waterproof, his uniform was not. He'd be making his way back to the garage soaked tonight.
Here's hoping that soak remains just water, not blood.
"Look," said the short man, continuing to back down the alleyway. He kept looking over Riot's shoulder, and around him, his eyes on the alley entrance. "I already dealt wit' you friend in the red tights, a'ight? I din't do nothing. That fruitcake is crazy!"
"Not a friend," said Carter coldly. "And I doubt you're all that innocent."
Carter stood up straight, holding the shield, and pointed to the man with his off-hand.
"You tell me who you are. Now," said Carter. "Or I leave you to him."
The short man looked at Carter, then around him, and then back at the walking man-tank in front of him.
"I'm... My name is..."
"Hey!"
Carter recognized Reverb's voice behind him. It seemed that the kid hadn't been gone long, doubling back rather quickly. Carter did not turn, but the short man seemed to take the new arrival's cue to shut himself up tight.
"Oy, Riot!"
Well, it seems that my reputation preceeds me.
"You mind me taking this little fuck down, I did the brute work on his crew and all. I appreciate you helping me find him, and I really do appreciate it." The bleeding vigilante began to step forward, offering a smile.
Carter planted his shield down right in front of him, turning slightly.
"These are criminals, not bounties, kid," replied Carter, getting a little annoyed. "This isn't some game."
"But that son of a bitch there is my target," continued Reverb, unphased. "I got the papers on him too."
Just the wording by Reverb here was starting to grind Carter a little. Papers? Since when did vigilantes need papers?
We don't do this because we have permission. We're just as illegal as the criminals we stop. But we do this because these idiots need to be stopped. They need to be brought down. The common people don't deserve the hell they're being dropped into.
Reverb reached into a pocket, (how anything stayed hidden in skin-tight pockets was beyond Carter's understanding), and produced a folded up bundle of papers, which were starting to catch the rain.
Carter grasped the papers out of Reverb's hand, unfolding them quickly. On the top was a warrant list, with the name Benjamin Tramunte, a.k.a. Benny the Knife, circled in black pen. It seemed that Carter had gotten the name he was looking for.
Benny the Knife was a rising star in one of the lower families, with a small crew, but big ambitions. It seemed that he wasn't all that satisfied to be small-time any longer. Could this be the person calling the shots here in West End?
"I'm Reverb by the way," said the young man in red. He offered a hand to Carter. " I think we could work this asshole over together, maybe even team up for a bit."
Carter handed the papers back, and beneath the shaded lens of his helmet, his teeth grinded.
Perhaps we can go along with this little game for bit. I can get what I need, and move on.
"This is the same man I'm looking for. I need him alive - I need some questions answered. I get my answers, he's all yours."
The rain was starting to pour down, bouncing over Carter's helmet, and drizzling down his uniform. Though the shell was waterproof, his uniform was not. He'd be making his way back to the garage soaked tonight.
Here's hoping that soak remains just water, not blood.
"Look," said the short man, continuing to back down the alleyway. He kept looking over Riot's shoulder, and around him, his eyes on the alley entrance. "I already dealt wit' you friend in the red tights, a'ight? I din't do nothing. That fruitcake is crazy!"
"Not a friend," said Carter coldly. "And I doubt you're all that innocent."
Carter stood up straight, holding the shield, and pointed to the man with his off-hand.
"You tell me who you are. Now," said Carter. "Or I leave you to him."
The short man looked at Carter, then around him, and then back at the walking man-tank in front of him.
"I'm... My name is..."
"Hey!"
Carter recognized Reverb's voice behind him. It seemed that the kid hadn't been gone long, doubling back rather quickly. Carter did not turn, but the short man seemed to take the new arrival's cue to shut himself up tight.
"Oy, Riot!"
Well, it seems that my reputation preceeds me.
"You mind me taking this little fuck down, I did the brute work on his crew and all. I appreciate you helping me find him, and I really do appreciate it." The bleeding vigilante began to step forward, offering a smile.
Carter planted his shield down right in front of him, turning slightly.
"These are criminals, not bounties, kid," replied Carter, getting a little annoyed. "This isn't some game."
"But that son of a bitch there is my target," continued Reverb, unphased. "I got the papers on him too."
Just the wording by Reverb here was starting to grind Carter a little. Papers? Since when did vigilantes need papers?
We don't do this because we have permission. We're just as illegal as the criminals we stop. But we do this because these idiots need to be stopped. They need to be brought down. The common people don't deserve the hell they're being dropped into.
Reverb reached into a pocket, (how anything stayed hidden in skin-tight pockets was beyond Carter's understanding), and produced a folded up bundle of papers, which were starting to catch the rain.
Carter grasped the papers out of Reverb's hand, unfolding them quickly. On the top was a warrant list, with the name Benjamin Tramunte, a.k.a. Benny the Knife, circled in black pen. It seemed that Carter had gotten the name he was looking for.
Benny the Knife was a rising star in one of the lower families, with a small crew, but big ambitions. It seemed that he wasn't all that satisfied to be small-time any longer. Could this be the person calling the shots here in West End?
"I'm Reverb by the way," said the young man in red. He offered a hand to Carter. " I think we could work this asshole over together, maybe even team up for a bit."
Carter handed the papers back, and beneath the shaded lens of his helmet, his teeth grinded.
Perhaps we can go along with this little game for bit. I can get what I need, and move on.
"This is the same man I'm looking for. I need him alive - I need some questions answered. I get my answers, he's all yours."
You know, the lot of us are awfully polite for a group of vigilantes. I really assumed that Reverb would've been pissed that Riot got in the way. In any case, I'll get a post up soon, probably cause some ire between these two. Can't just always have these guys meet up and be buddies immediately - Where's the fun in that? <grin>
[DOUBLE POST]
"Wisp," replied the woman. Carter accepted the handshake. After some of the other... encounters that he'd had with other masks throughout the city, it was nice for one to go civilly for once.
"Should be easy to remember," said Carter, releasing her hand.
"Oh now, how cute. A little congratulations over a job well done."
Carter turned, noticing a silhouetted doorway at the opposite end of the warehouse. He could see one man standing there, the moonlight behind him shadowing his features. All except for the cigarette in his mouth, which glowed dimly.
Stupid! Stupid! You leave your guard down for a second...
Another voice, this time a woman continued the thought. She moved from behind the first, cutting an impressive figure. "Looks like we've got us some pests, Jazz."
"Too true, Jo," replied the first man. "Good thing I brought'sa some exterminators along."
Like wraiths from the shadows, the "exterminators" stepped forward, each with an automatic rifle in-hand. Carter counted at least twelve in the dark, but couldn't risk reaching up to turn on his night vision. No quick movements. At least, not yet.
About 15-men. 30-round clip AK-47s. Possible reload clips. This will not be fun.
"Put down your weapons, and you will not be hurt," said Carter slowly, the helmet masking his voice.
The boys laughed, as did Jo. Jazz, however, didn't even crack a smile. "Are you being serious? You thinking you can somehow survive a hit like this? Can you not count or something?"
"I'll warn you a second time," said Carter, his grip tightening on his shield handle. "Put the weapons down."
"I think the guy needs that helmet 'cause he's wrong in the head, Jazz.," Jo snickered.
"You may be right there, Jo," replied Jazz. He motioned for the others to move forward.
"Well, now," said the woman, Jo. "See-in's as we've got 'em standing here, I think we oughtta make an example, don'cha think, Jazz?"
Slowly, Carter reached his right hand back to his belt, and gripped a three-bang flash grenade.
"I think you're right there, Jo." The man, Jazz, took a last drag on his cigarette before flicking it towards the two vigilantes. "Boys - Let's show these masks what messin' with the Family'll do for your health."
Carter grit his teeth, his muscles ready to move.
3... 2... 1...
He pointed. "Light 'em up!"
Carter turned and tackled Wisp to the ground, sliding to a stop as he turned with the shield in front of them. Bullets began to ricochet off the shield's surface in every direction, as Carter tossed the grenade.
"Eyes closed!" Shouted Carter to Wisp. It was then that the entire warehouse lit up like the sun.
"Should be easy to remember," said Carter, releasing her hand.
"Oh now, how cute. A little congratulations over a job well done."
Carter turned, noticing a silhouetted doorway at the opposite end of the warehouse. He could see one man standing there, the moonlight behind him shadowing his features. All except for the cigarette in his mouth, which glowed dimly.
Stupid! Stupid! You leave your guard down for a second...
Another voice, this time a woman continued the thought. She moved from behind the first, cutting an impressive figure. "Looks like we've got us some pests, Jazz."
"Too true, Jo," replied the first man. "Good thing I brought'sa some exterminators along."
Like wraiths from the shadows, the "exterminators" stepped forward, each with an automatic rifle in-hand. Carter counted at least twelve in the dark, but couldn't risk reaching up to turn on his night vision. No quick movements. At least, not yet.
About 15-men. 30-round clip AK-47s. Possible reload clips. This will not be fun.
"Put down your weapons, and you will not be hurt," said Carter slowly, the helmet masking his voice.
The boys laughed, as did Jo. Jazz, however, didn't even crack a smile. "Are you being serious? You thinking you can somehow survive a hit like this? Can you not count or something?"
"I'll warn you a second time," said Carter, his grip tightening on his shield handle. "Put the weapons down."
"I think the guy needs that helmet 'cause he's wrong in the head, Jazz.," Jo snickered.
"You may be right there, Jo," replied Jazz. He motioned for the others to move forward.
"Well, now," said the woman, Jo. "See-in's as we've got 'em standing here, I think we oughtta make an example, don'cha think, Jazz?"
Slowly, Carter reached his right hand back to his belt, and gripped a three-bang flash grenade.
"I think you're right there, Jo." The man, Jazz, took a last drag on his cigarette before flicking it towards the two vigilantes. "Boys - Let's show these masks what messin' with the Family'll do for your health."
Carter grit his teeth, his muscles ready to move.
3... 2... 1...
He pointed. "Light 'em up!"
Carter turned and tackled Wisp to the ground, sliding to a stop as he turned with the shield in front of them. Bullets began to ricochet off the shield's surface in every direction, as Carter tossed the grenade.
"Eyes closed!" Shouted Carter to Wisp. It was then that the entire warehouse lit up like the sun.
© 2007-2024