MegaOscarPwn
Member
Daisan No Bakudan - Bite Za Dusto
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
- Posts: 390 (0.14 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- MegaOscarPwn 8 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Most Recent Posts
Óscar didn't like stripper clubs, not even bars. He didn't enjoy drinking either, but there was not much to do here on this piece of land that God seemed to forget about. He took some gulps from his drink, some of the waitresses recognizing him as they gave him a wink, most of them smiling at him as he looked at them, the rest just giving him some looks that could only be described as "boner givers". "Guess they have to make money..." the Spaniard thought to himself, turning away from the counter and walking around the club, most of the time lowering his view to admire the (mostly) good and round bottoms of the ladies in there.
Bambi came up to one of the stages, her almost non-existent clothing barely covering her sensual and private parts, most of the guys there drooling as she started to work the pole: He found her attractive, but it had been so long since he felt anything for another person that his "Spanish Romance" was a bit off "Ay, Sandra..." he thinks to himself.. Óscar sat on a couch around the poles, his initial upbeat and happy mood from receiving the payment he deserved for the job he did some weeks ago surely raised the spirits, but he just wasn't feeling it. He finished his drink, leaving it on one of the girls' tray that walked by, before standing up and going inside the bathrooms, having to push his way up there: Drunk bastards (most of them Moons) and horny cunts blocking the way up to it.
"Hey, watch it coño!" He said, someone's drink almost being spilled right onto his head.
The man shook his head, continuing to go into the bathroom and opening the door, the stench of alcohol and what appeared to be sweat filling the entire room, he had to make an effort not to gag and enter. Walking up to one of the sinks, he took his phone out: No new messages. He felt good for a moment, then bad, then good again, then really bad. For once, he felt secure that no old contacts have tried to follow him, but he also missed the basic human contact. Not just greeting someone, Óscar needed to hold a conversation with someone, at least to let off some steam. Suddenly, the door opened again, a white male entering, he seemed slightly drunk but aware of his surroundings.
"Hello..." he said as he entered, walking up to the sink beside Óscar.
"Hey" the Spaniard replied, eyeing him for a moment, raising an eyebrow "Don't I know you from somewhere..?" he asked, turning on the faucet, in an attempt to wash his hands.
"Maybe, I'm the guy who gets paid less than you after working a shit ton of time for the Laurents..." the man replied, glancing at Óscar "You fucking spic, stealing our money...I'm sure you work for the Moons, y-you had something to do with the attack..."
The bounty hunter finished washing his hands, scratching his beard as he accommodated the pompadour on his head "Attack? Did the Moons do something?" He had no idea what he was talking about, but maybe the Laurents wanted revenge, and who'd do it best than him? He didn't mind the insult, he had heard it too many times to get offended by it. He started to walk out of the bathroom, going past the man "Tell your boss to call me..." he told him, giving him a pat on the back.
"Oi, get back h-here you bastard!" the man pushed Óscar outside of the bathroom by giving him a punch right on the back, the door hitting a pair of men talking about something important "I ain't gonna let a fuckin' orphan steal more of our money! I'm sure I could use it better with your mother's urn!"
The "Spic" managed to stay up, looking back at the man as he clenched his fists, looking around the place and noticing the bouncer from before, Jim, coming in. "Yo what's the matter?" he asked, looking at the Laurent's guy "None of your business, nigger!" he yelled at him, before giving him a quick headbutt: Jim fell back into a table, his nose bleeding as Óscar loses it "Oh that's it hijo de puta!" he yelled, taking a tray off of a waitress' hands, slamming it onto the man's face, throwing it aside as the man recoils into the wall, Óscar getting grabbed by another of Laurent's man as he just saw him attack one of his comrades, quickly attempting to get him into a headlock to choke him, some of the more drunk Moons going into the fight as everything just turns into chaos: The bouncers trying to stop the fight with more of it, Moons against Laurents and Óscar in the middle just punching and kicking everyone that tries to get close to him, getting hit in the stomach a couple of times, enraged.
Bambi came up to one of the stages, her almost non-existent clothing barely covering her sensual and private parts, most of the guys there drooling as she started to work the pole: He found her attractive, but it had been so long since he felt anything for another person that his "Spanish Romance" was a bit off "Ay, Sandra..." he thinks to himself.. Óscar sat on a couch around the poles, his initial upbeat and happy mood from receiving the payment he deserved for the job he did some weeks ago surely raised the spirits, but he just wasn't feeling it. He finished his drink, leaving it on one of the girls' tray that walked by, before standing up and going inside the bathrooms, having to push his way up there: Drunk bastards (most of them Moons) and horny cunts blocking the way up to it.
"Hey, watch it coño!" He said, someone's drink almost being spilled right onto his head.
The man shook his head, continuing to go into the bathroom and opening the door, the stench of alcohol and what appeared to be sweat filling the entire room, he had to make an effort not to gag and enter. Walking up to one of the sinks, he took his phone out: No new messages. He felt good for a moment, then bad, then good again, then really bad. For once, he felt secure that no old contacts have tried to follow him, but he also missed the basic human contact. Not just greeting someone, Óscar needed to hold a conversation with someone, at least to let off some steam. Suddenly, the door opened again, a white male entering, he seemed slightly drunk but aware of his surroundings.
"Hello..." he said as he entered, walking up to the sink beside Óscar.
"Hey" the Spaniard replied, eyeing him for a moment, raising an eyebrow "Don't I know you from somewhere..?" he asked, turning on the faucet, in an attempt to wash his hands.
"Maybe, I'm the guy who gets paid less than you after working a shit ton of time for the Laurents..." the man replied, glancing at Óscar "You fucking spic, stealing our money...I'm sure you work for the Moons, y-you had something to do with the attack..."
The bounty hunter finished washing his hands, scratching his beard as he accommodated the pompadour on his head "Attack? Did the Moons do something?" He had no idea what he was talking about, but maybe the Laurents wanted revenge, and who'd do it best than him? He didn't mind the insult, he had heard it too many times to get offended by it. He started to walk out of the bathroom, going past the man "Tell your boss to call me..." he told him, giving him a pat on the back.
"Oi, get back h-here you bastard!" the man pushed Óscar outside of the bathroom by giving him a punch right on the back, the door hitting a pair of men talking about something important "I ain't gonna let a fuckin' orphan steal more of our money! I'm sure I could use it better with your mother's urn!"
The "Spic" managed to stay up, looking back at the man as he clenched his fists, looking around the place and noticing the bouncer from before, Jim, coming in. "Yo what's the matter?" he asked, looking at the Laurent's guy "None of your business, nigger!" he yelled at him, before giving him a quick headbutt: Jim fell back into a table, his nose bleeding as Óscar loses it "Oh that's it hijo de puta!" he yelled, taking a tray off of a waitress' hands, slamming it onto the man's face, throwing it aside as the man recoils into the wall, Óscar getting grabbed by another of Laurent's man as he just saw him attack one of his comrades, quickly attempting to get him into a headlock to choke him, some of the more drunk Moons going into the fight as everything just turns into chaos: The bouncers trying to stop the fight with more of it, Moons against Laurents and Óscar in the middle just punching and kicking everyone that tries to get close to him, getting hit in the stomach a couple of times, enraged.
Same.
Even tho we need a bar brawl.
PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE IT HAPPEN I DON'T WANNA BE THE BAD GUY.
I mean I will if I need to.
:^).
Even tho we need a bar brawl.
PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE IT HAPPEN I DON'T WANNA BE THE BAD GUY.
I mean I will if I need to.
:^).
@Kessir Tarkin How about uh, superspeed.
Or maybe telekinesis.
Or just fucking mind control.
OR MAYBE A GUY THAT CAN REGENERATE HIMSELF.
Or maybe telekinesis.
Or just fucking mind control.
OR MAYBE A GUY THAT CAN REGENERATE HIMSELF.
Óscar just sighed as he saw Kaneda start to jump down from the top; why even bother? I mean, sure, training is always good and blah blah blah, but without an incentive, again, why bother? He wasn't the kind of guy that did stuff for "himself" or because it was morally good or bad, he thought about the things he had to give up and the things he could earn. For example, he would have to run up the fucking mountain, get tired and more than likely get an asthma attack...for nothing. The Spaniard then looked back as he saw María, not really jogging "Hell, she must either be a pija or even more lazy than I am..." he thought to himself.
Trying to mumble a song, or at least reproduce it on his head, was what he used to do when the PE teacher made the whole class take the Cooper test from time to time. He would always try to energize himself with some swing, you know, Benny Goodman and maybe even some Jazz from Bennie Moten. If he had been born in Germany, the Hitlerjugend would have probably beaten him up like they used to do with the Swingjugend, or Swing Kids. Óscar started to mumble some songs, his jogging starting to go at a faster rhythm and a faster pace, but Kaneda started to talk and kinda ruined it all.
Moving one of his hands to wave at him, he spoke up, his breathing getting slightly interrupted "Well pal, the Germans weren't the problem...the equipo was, who the hell thinks that sending a group of recruits into Axis territory was a good idea? I mean, sure, we have superpowers, but those can't stop bullets." He then made a stop, getting his breathing under control and speaking up once again "I survived because I deserted, I ain't going to deny it, I chose vida over certain death. Our whole squad got killed and I don't even know how these two got out alive..." He looked at the siblings, smirking as he winked at them, looking back at Kaneda "But don't worry compañero, I'm sure we'll be fine, this team is much better and we have even better training..."
Trying to mumble a song, or at least reproduce it on his head, was what he used to do when the PE teacher made the whole class take the Cooper test from time to time. He would always try to energize himself with some swing, you know, Benny Goodman and maybe even some Jazz from Bennie Moten. If he had been born in Germany, the Hitlerjugend would have probably beaten him up like they used to do with the Swingjugend, or Swing Kids. Óscar started to mumble some songs, his jogging starting to go at a faster rhythm and a faster pace, but Kaneda started to talk and kinda ruined it all.
Moving one of his hands to wave at him, he spoke up, his breathing getting slightly interrupted "Well pal, the Germans weren't the problem...the equipo was, who the hell thinks that sending a group of recruits into Axis territory was a good idea? I mean, sure, we have superpowers, but those can't stop bullets." He then made a stop, getting his breathing under control and speaking up once again "I survived because I deserted, I ain't going to deny it, I chose vida over certain death. Our whole squad got killed and I don't even know how these two got out alive..." He looked at the siblings, smirking as he winked at them, looking back at Kaneda "But don't worry compañero, I'm sure we'll be fine, this team is much better and we have even better training..."
@Valeriana Should I post my reply or wait for the others? I don't wanna interrupt anything :^)
I hope my first post is good, didn't want to get into band-mob thingy relatively quickly.
:^).
:^).
23:12. Geurchville, main street.
It was cold and raining.
An antique, black Dodge Charger was cruising down the street, rain pouring down onto the pavement as numerous people ran back to their homes to protect themselves from the cold, searching what all humans needed most: Heat. The man inside the car adjusted his jacket, waiting in the middle of the street, in a junction. He didn't stop because the light was red or there was something off about the place, no, he was waiting. All it took was 5 minutes, 5 minutes for a man to turn the corner, keeping what seemed like a suitcase close to him, covered in a brown trenchcoat and a big wool hat. The dim clarity of the streetlights was the only thing keeping the "prey" from identifying the hunter, which kept himself in the shadows, made easier by the cold colors of his attire and vehicle.
The man in the car slowly started to turn, before stopping his Charger aside of the road, keeping himself from being seen by the man. He adjusted his gloves, before getting out of the vehicle and putting his hands in his pockets, the hoodie covering his head entirely, slowly making his way up to the man with the suitcase. Some cars continued to go on their way, some of them going into the nearby alleyways to do all sorts of nasty stuff in there, more than likely get aids. The man with the suitcase sat in one of the bus stops, bringing out his pocket watch and quickly taking a look at it as the other approached.
"Excuse me, may I know what hour is it?"
"Hmph?" He replied, his face instantly going pale as he recognized the man who had been watching him.
"Oh, nevermind, I remember now..." Óscar said, instantly grabbing him by the neck and pushing him against the glass wall of the stop "Time for you to fucking pay, bastard."
"Pl-Please Ömega, I j-just need more time, I'll pay you wh-" He instantly got cut as the bounty hunter applied pressure to his throat, leaving him gasping for air.
"Look amigo, we all need more time, but I don't work for free..." The Spaniard instantly took the suitcase with his free hand, opening it and checking inside: About a thousand dollars in small bills, plus what appeared to be spare clothing and whatnot. "I think this is mine..." he said as he took the money, closing the suitcase again and pushing it against the man's chest, bringing out a Ruger SR1911 up from the holster inside his hoodie, making pressure on his stomach with it "I'm a respectable mercenary and bounty hunter colega, but if I don't get paid, I can get quite cabreado, understood?".
"Y-Yes..." the man replied with a weak voice, more than likely induced by fear.
Óscar nodded, putting the gun back in the holster and putting his hoodie back on, before starting to direct himself to the car once again "Have a nice trip!" he said back to the man, giving him a wave, not looking back. The sound of a Dodge Charger was heard, leaving the vicinity and heading to one of the remaining open places at this hour: The Strip Club.
He parked his car near the entrance, where the man guarding the door recognized him "Poleo" the bulky black male said, nodding at him,"Hey Jim, how're Bella's classes going?" he asked, reaching up to his pocket and handing him the keys "Not bad, she got an 8 in her Spanish exam..." The Spaniard smiled at him, giving him a pat on the back before going in, putting off his leather jacket with the hoodie and going to the club's counter, showing off his black "Gl&Hf" shirt, ordering a black vodka with sprite, looking around the club.
© 2007-2024