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Infamous RPG :: Empire City :: The Neon
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Bar Dumort
by Megz Tue Jan 17, 2017 1:43 am
The low brick building stood out from its dilapidated surroundings; it was well kept and clean with warm light spilling out from the two circular windows on its doors. It used to be a speakeasy in the '20s and Marie had fallen in love with the location and renovated it to become what it was today. Above its entrance was a sign in blue neon reading 'Bar Dumort' that grew more and more vibrant as the sun set. Even from across the street Marie could hear the chatter coming from inside her bar. She surveyed it with gleaming eyes before crossing the street and entering, greeting the bouncer on her way in. The bar was kept as peaceful as possible under her watchful eye but a little help from a Reaper or two at the entrance was always welcome.
Stepping inside she noted that the place was relatively full; regulars greeted Marie as she passed them, smiling and reminding them to pay their tabs. The walls were made of dark grey brick with a few scattered paintings and metal accents hanging on them. There were hardwood floors Marie had had waxed recently that her heels made a satisfying click against. One of the two pool tables was occupied by a group of newcomers as was the Dart board and most of the tables, all of which had a candle in the center with a decorative glass holder. As long as no fights broke out again it would hopefully be a very successful night.
The counter, which was gleaming as always, had a few of its seats filled mostly with regulars though Marie noted a few new faces as she passed by. The wall directly behind it was a mirror with bottles being stacked directly in front of it in fancy metal racks. The current Bartender stood up straight seeing Marie and greeted her. Marie flashed her a smile continuing towards the dark red door at the back of the bar leading to her office and the rest of the storage spaces.
"Lana, I'll take over in a moment. Finish up."
"Of course Miss Bouvier."
The back of the bar was restricted for any patrons who had only come for drinks. Any other dealings were handled in Marie's office. The walls were a rich royal blue and a painting of Nice hung on one of the walls. Her mahogany desk was in the far center with two chairs in front of it and a matching mahogany cabinet to the side full of the most expensive Scotch and Vodka in the entire building. Her Laptop was perfectly in the center of the desk with a vintage rotary phone(mostly for aesthetics) and all her paperwork in neat piles. There was a black leather couch pushed against one of the walls she had a bad habit of falling asleep on when she was too busy to go home.
Marie dropped her purse off on the couch along with her coat and looked through any new paperwork that had been dropped off. All of her shipments were on time except for one but that was a strongly worded phone call for later. She didn't like threatening people until after Happy Hour.
Marie touched up her lipstick and exited her office, checking in on the storage room and delivery bay at the very back of the bar before going to relieve Lana. The Bar was spacious but still small enough for Marie to be able to see everything from her spot behind the counter. Well everything visible. The secret exits and entrances were sealed up tight at the moment so she had nothing to fret over but she knew she'd have to open them at some point tonight to receive a few packages.
Marie smoothed down her skirt and settled against the counter.
Megz- Posts : 14
Join date : 2017-01-13
Re: Bar Dumort
by ReaptheMusic Tue Jan 17, 2017 6:29 pm
She'd been here every single day this week.
Of course, the FBI Agent War didn't go in looking as she was. Thanks to a few call ins to a friend in the area she'd been able to rosy her cheeks to a healthy, less abnormal pale color, add in different colored contacts every day and three different wigs she'd been rotating while changing the style and adding extra elements to as she went.
She'd also been changing personas.
A few days ago she was Rosalind Darryl who believed she could speak to spirits and read tarot cards to some lesbians who took a fancy to her while her ear twitched at the conversations of the bouncers at the door. Yesterday, she was Karly Cent, a drunk in her mid-40's who piningly drank a sad looking beer in the corner and 'fell asleep' with her head on the table until the bar closed.
It was amazing what a bit of makeup could do.
She was different today too. War had donned an open black leather jacket that was cut off at the waist and revealed a hot pink bandeau covering her breasts with track marks drawn onto the skin of her forearms. Her skin tight denim pants were low cut with a racy matching pink thong coming up over the top of it and an airbrushed tramp stamp complete with a butterfly belly button piercing and snakebite piercings below her bottom lip. Her wig was a jet black asymmetrical bob with streaks of pink hair chalk pulled through it to accent her face. Her red eyes were covered in dark contacts while her eyes were made up with winged eyeliner, giving her an almost Asian appearance.
She was still trying to come up with a name as she shot pool with some rubber-neckers who shot the cue with as much grace as a blue footed boobie's mating dance. She huffed, turning her eyes to look at the newest Reaper bouncer of the night. Considering how racey her facade was made up to be tonight she might actually be able to slip away with one of them and persuade some information out of them.
It was frustrating how fruitless it'd been so far, sitting around, waiting to hear any drop of information she could about the Leader of the Reapers. She'd already handled and gotten the information she'd needed to know about the Dustmen in the Warren. Honestly, that information had come at the price of paying for a few hot meals and patting a few backs of some sobbing homeless men. Even now her heartstrings couldn't help but pull as she recalled some of the sad things they'd told her. She'd sent a few of them to rehab after learning her information.
Nothing was done.
That was all she was after right now, information. With it, the FBI could find the next best course of action when deconstructing the gangs and rebuilding some form of proper society with the help of a few other organizations that were strictly on a need-to-know basis. Cross a few T's, dot a few I's and the world could be put back together with the right amount of paperwork, business as usual.
Then... why was this so difficult? The Dust Men's information could be bought by providing an ear to listen to and a hot meal or two for the homeless locals but The Reapers.... there was something about them that was bothering her. Her persona tonight was her first attempt at trying to actively pursue information rather than sit back and listen. Sitting back and listening had given her nothing other than knowing that sometimes the Leader of their gang came to drink here. The fact his grunts were defending the bar proved that much, and the owner had been busy doing her own thing since she'd gotten here this week.
Recalling this fact, her eyes twitched back over to the main bar, finding a petite blonde in place of the last girl... so... was this her? Surely she could find something out from her. A plan was beginning to form in her head.
"Hey, It's your turn." One of the rubber neckers drunkenly oggled her as he put his hand on her shoulder. Of course. Not too fast... Everything in time. Everything in character. She'd talk to the owner and then seduce a Reaper. Cross the T's. Dot the I's. She leaned down, her ass in the air purposefully as she struck the cue against an 8 ball, it rolled against a stripe, sinking it while keeping the 8 ball precariously perched at the edge of the precipice that could spell her doom in the game.
Business as usual.
Of course, the FBI Agent War didn't go in looking as she was. Thanks to a few call ins to a friend in the area she'd been able to rosy her cheeks to a healthy, less abnormal pale color, add in different colored contacts every day and three different wigs she'd been rotating while changing the style and adding extra elements to as she went.
She'd also been changing personas.
A few days ago she was Rosalind Darryl who believed she could speak to spirits and read tarot cards to some lesbians who took a fancy to her while her ear twitched at the conversations of the bouncers at the door. Yesterday, she was Karly Cent, a drunk in her mid-40's who piningly drank a sad looking beer in the corner and 'fell asleep' with her head on the table until the bar closed.
It was amazing what a bit of makeup could do.
She was different today too. War had donned an open black leather jacket that was cut off at the waist and revealed a hot pink bandeau covering her breasts with track marks drawn onto the skin of her forearms. Her skin tight denim pants were low cut with a racy matching pink thong coming up over the top of it and an airbrushed tramp stamp complete with a butterfly belly button piercing and snakebite piercings below her bottom lip. Her wig was a jet black asymmetrical bob with streaks of pink hair chalk pulled through it to accent her face. Her red eyes were covered in dark contacts while her eyes were made up with winged eyeliner, giving her an almost Asian appearance.
She was still trying to come up with a name as she shot pool with some rubber-neckers who shot the cue with as much grace as a blue footed boobie's mating dance. She huffed, turning her eyes to look at the newest Reaper bouncer of the night. Considering how racey her facade was made up to be tonight she might actually be able to slip away with one of them and persuade some information out of them.
It was frustrating how fruitless it'd been so far, sitting around, waiting to hear any drop of information she could about the Leader of the Reapers. She'd already handled and gotten the information she'd needed to know about the Dustmen in the Warren. Honestly, that information had come at the price of paying for a few hot meals and patting a few backs of some sobbing homeless men. Even now her heartstrings couldn't help but pull as she recalled some of the sad things they'd told her. She'd sent a few of them to rehab after learning her information.
Nothing was done.
That was all she was after right now, information. With it, the FBI could find the next best course of action when deconstructing the gangs and rebuilding some form of proper society with the help of a few other organizations that were strictly on a need-to-know basis. Cross a few T's, dot a few I's and the world could be put back together with the right amount of paperwork, business as usual.
Then... why was this so difficult? The Dust Men's information could be bought by providing an ear to listen to and a hot meal or two for the homeless locals but The Reapers.... there was something about them that was bothering her. Her persona tonight was her first attempt at trying to actively pursue information rather than sit back and listen. Sitting back and listening had given her nothing other than knowing that sometimes the Leader of their gang came to drink here. The fact his grunts were defending the bar proved that much, and the owner had been busy doing her own thing since she'd gotten here this week.
Recalling this fact, her eyes twitched back over to the main bar, finding a petite blonde in place of the last girl... so... was this her? Surely she could find something out from her. A plan was beginning to form in her head.
"Hey, It's your turn." One of the rubber neckers drunkenly oggled her as he put his hand on her shoulder. Of course. Not too fast... Everything in time. Everything in character. She'd talk to the owner and then seduce a Reaper. Cross the T's. Dot the I's. She leaned down, her ass in the air purposefully as she struck the cue against an 8 ball, it rolled against a stripe, sinking it while keeping the 8 ball precariously perched at the edge of the precipice that could spell her doom in the game.
Business as usual.
ReaptheMusic- Posts : 40
Join date : 2017-01-11
Age : 28
Re: Bar Dumort
by Megz Wed Jan 18, 2017 9:02 pm
The evening passed by for Marie in a string of overpriced cocktails and gossip as it did most nights. There were a few more newcomers at the bar but Marie could still easily spot all her regulars. Her tip jar was almost full and no one had come in trying to shoot the place. It was turning out to be a stellar night.
But something was bothering her. Someone or something had been watching her and it was getting on her nerves. She was used to being looked at of course; she didn't wear push up bras to work because they were comfortable. But after spending most of her life being investigated she'd learned to tell the difference from ogling and inspecting. Not that she could tell exactly who it was with how busy the place was. So Marie continued her work as usual with a grin and cheap bottle throwing tricks though just the tiniest bit annoyed. It would be a problem she'd deal with later.
Marie noted the time on her Rolex after serving a few more people and glanced at the back door to her office. She had a very important meeting in about thirty minutes and needed to close out soon. And she fully intended to do this.
That is until one of her lovely patrons found it in his heart to complain about his drink and then proceed to explain to her in vivid detail after vivid detail just how to make a Piña Colada.
" See you have to put the rum in at intervals and THEN you put in the coconut milk. It's really easy. You know I used to bartend at a T.G.I Friday's so I know what I'm doing."
If you kill him you'll have to have the floors cleaned and the bar stool reupholstered. And the other clients might get upset.
"Would you like a different drink then sir?" Marie replied smiling graciously with her hand resting on the shotgun beneath the counter. There were fifteen minutes until her meeting.
" Listen sweetie I just want my drink made correctly. Let me explain again. So first you-"
" Get out of my bar." The mans pointed finger stopped its wagging and he stared at Marie, dumbfounded.
"What?"
"Get out of my bar."She replied coolly and smiled brightly. The people sitting at the counter had quieted down, the regulars sharing silent knowing looks.
"Wha- How dare you! Can you guys believe this?!" The man turned to his friends who all looked away and continued to quietly sip their $17.99 drinks. He frowned and turned angrily to Marie. A little part of Marie was concerned that the man might whip out some random conduit abilities and destroy the place but that fear was quickly quelled with what he said next.
"I want to speak to your manager!" Maries smile doubled in size. There was fourteen minutes until her meeting.
"Sir, I'm the owner."
But something was bothering her. Someone or something had been watching her and it was getting on her nerves. She was used to being looked at of course; she didn't wear push up bras to work because they were comfortable. But after spending most of her life being investigated she'd learned to tell the difference from ogling and inspecting. Not that she could tell exactly who it was with how busy the place was. So Marie continued her work as usual with a grin and cheap bottle throwing tricks though just the tiniest bit annoyed. It would be a problem she'd deal with later.
Marie noted the time on her Rolex after serving a few more people and glanced at the back door to her office. She had a very important meeting in about thirty minutes and needed to close out soon. And she fully intended to do this.
That is until one of her lovely patrons found it in his heart to complain about his drink and then proceed to explain to her in vivid detail after vivid detail just how to make a Piña Colada.
" See you have to put the rum in at intervals and THEN you put in the coconut milk. It's really easy. You know I used to bartend at a T.G.I Friday's so I know what I'm doing."
If you kill him you'll have to have the floors cleaned and the bar stool reupholstered. And the other clients might get upset.
"Would you like a different drink then sir?" Marie replied smiling graciously with her hand resting on the shotgun beneath the counter. There were fifteen minutes until her meeting.
" Listen sweetie I just want my drink made correctly. Let me explain again. So first you-"
" Get out of my bar." The mans pointed finger stopped its wagging and he stared at Marie, dumbfounded.
"What?"
"Get out of my bar."She replied coolly and smiled brightly. The people sitting at the counter had quieted down, the regulars sharing silent knowing looks.
"Wha- How dare you! Can you guys believe this?!" The man turned to his friends who all looked away and continued to quietly sip their $17.99 drinks. He frowned and turned angrily to Marie. A little part of Marie was concerned that the man might whip out some random conduit abilities and destroy the place but that fear was quickly quelled with what he said next.
"I want to speak to your manager!" Maries smile doubled in size. There was fourteen minutes until her meeting.
"Sir, I'm the owner."
Megz- Posts : 14
Join date : 2017-01-13
Re: Bar Dumort
by ReaptheMusic Wed Jan 18, 2017 10:04 pm
Ding, Ding, Ding.
She was the owner.
Bingo.
"Pardon me, fellas..." War set down her pool cue, her butt swaying promiscuously as she headed towards the bar. Her arms draped around the mans shoulders from behind--not difficult, considering her height. "Didn't your mother ever teach ya' manners?" She spoke against his ear, earning a startled blush from the whining patron. Her way of speaking had also changed with this racey persona to be something similar to the locals. "If tha' lady says no..."
She gripped his shoulders, spinning him around, planting a foot firmly against his spine.
"Then YOU gotta go!" She shoved him away with all the force she could, grunting as the guy was sent stumbling toward the door, falling half way out of it. Those that went quiet at the counter burst out laughing. War, smirking, turned back to the counter and leaned against it, her breasts pushed up against the material of the bar as she looked at the owner.
"Sorry 'bout Jimmy baby," She said, pretending to know the guy in some form. "He's just a loser. You's the owner, right?" War extended her hand to Marie. "Friends call me Cherry... we should hang out, you know?" She winked at her. War couldn't be straight with her yet. It would be too suspicious. She licked her lips, considering how to best approach the situation.
"Hey... who are those bouncers huh?" She proceeded to bite her lip, showing interest intentionally. "How can I get my hands--no, how can I get THEIR hands on me tonight, because, Oh--"She pulled herself up onto the bar stool, leaning her head on her hand, a grin on her face. War fanned herself, apparently turned on by the reapers mysterious appearance. "Those boys are--ooh, they're fine..."
She was the owner.
Bingo.
"Pardon me, fellas..." War set down her pool cue, her butt swaying promiscuously as she headed towards the bar. Her arms draped around the mans shoulders from behind--not difficult, considering her height. "Didn't your mother ever teach ya' manners?" She spoke against his ear, earning a startled blush from the whining patron. Her way of speaking had also changed with this racey persona to be something similar to the locals. "If tha' lady says no..."
She gripped his shoulders, spinning him around, planting a foot firmly against his spine.
"Then YOU gotta go!" She shoved him away with all the force she could, grunting as the guy was sent stumbling toward the door, falling half way out of it. Those that went quiet at the counter burst out laughing. War, smirking, turned back to the counter and leaned against it, her breasts pushed up against the material of the bar as she looked at the owner.
"Sorry 'bout Jimmy baby," She said, pretending to know the guy in some form. "He's just a loser. You's the owner, right?" War extended her hand to Marie. "Friends call me Cherry... we should hang out, you know?" She winked at her. War couldn't be straight with her yet. It would be too suspicious. She licked her lips, considering how to best approach the situation.
"Hey... who are those bouncers huh?" She proceeded to bite her lip, showing interest intentionally. "How can I get my hands--no, how can I get THEIR hands on me tonight, because, Oh--"She pulled herself up onto the bar stool, leaning her head on her hand, a grin on her face. War fanned herself, apparently turned on by the reapers mysterious appearance. "Those boys are--ooh, they're fine..."
ReaptheMusic- Posts : 40
Join date : 2017-01-11
Age : 28
Re: Bar Dumort
by Megz Wed Jan 18, 2017 11:46 pm
Marie watched in amusement as the woman literally kicked the annoying man out of her bar. There really was nothing more satisfying to see. She chimed in with the others chuckling as he stumbled the rest of the way out. Marie looked the woman up and down taking in the tight jeans, bandeu, and snake bite piercings before she made eye contact. And then it hit her.
She was watching me earlier.
Marie did not take kindly to being observed, not when keeping and sharing secrets made her as much money as it did. But she wasn't about to fight this woman, she was going to be patient. It's what she was best at of course.
His friend called him Bill.
Marie shook her hand and smiled graciously, nodding in response to her question.
"Yes, I run this place."
She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes until the meeting. She could spare one or two more.
Marie batted her eyes and smiled coyly at the mention of hanging out before beginning to collect her tips.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her replacement Claude arriving.
At Cherrys mention of the Reapers Marie grinned.
"Well I can assure you they are very vocal in everything they do if you're into that sort of thing."she replied, glancing toward the entrance where the Reapers stood watch. She still remembered the first time one of them almost coughed up Tar on her favorite Louboutins and had then proceeded to shriek.
Wait until I tell this to Lysander.
Marie leaned in closer to Cherry looking down at her, their foreheads almost touching, and smirked.
"You see that back door over there. Take the first door to the left in, oh...lets say thirty minutes. I would love to hang out with you, ma mie." she cooed. Marie winked at her before straightening up and stepping out from behind the counter and letting Claude take her place.
Marie swayed her hips as she made her way to her office, greeting regulars on the way with a dazzling smile as usual. She had eight minutes to organize this weeks narcotics shipment before her meeting and then getting to deal with whatever this Cherry woman would try.
She was watching me earlier.
Marie did not take kindly to being observed, not when keeping and sharing secrets made her as much money as it did. But she wasn't about to fight this woman, she was going to be patient. It's what she was best at of course.
His friend called him Bill.
Marie shook her hand and smiled graciously, nodding in response to her question.
"Yes, I run this place."
She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes until the meeting. She could spare one or two more.
Marie batted her eyes and smiled coyly at the mention of hanging out before beginning to collect her tips.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her replacement Claude arriving.
At Cherrys mention of the Reapers Marie grinned.
"Well I can assure you they are very vocal in everything they do if you're into that sort of thing."she replied, glancing toward the entrance where the Reapers stood watch. She still remembered the first time one of them almost coughed up Tar on her favorite Louboutins and had then proceeded to shriek.
Wait until I tell this to Lysander.
Marie leaned in closer to Cherry looking down at her, their foreheads almost touching, and smirked.
"You see that back door over there. Take the first door to the left in, oh...lets say thirty minutes. I would love to hang out with you, ma mie." she cooed. Marie winked at her before straightening up and stepping out from behind the counter and letting Claude take her place.
Marie swayed her hips as she made her way to her office, greeting regulars on the way with a dazzling smile as usual. She had eight minutes to organize this weeks narcotics shipment before her meeting and then getting to deal with whatever this Cherry woman would try.
Megz- Posts : 14
Join date : 2017-01-13
Re: Bar Dumort
by ReaptheMusic Thu Jan 19, 2017 1:21 am
War smiled, leaning her head on her hand as she watched the swaying hips of the cute owner slip into the back. Then she sighed, leaning back in her seat. Honestly there was no way she was intending to risk her cover by following her, which was a shame because she actually was really cute. Well... whatever. The mission came first.
"Cherry" swiveled in her chair to peer at the bouncers outside the doors window curiously. So, the owner had declared them to be... vocal. Naturally her mind drifted somewhere a little over R rated with the comment, but her thoughts didn't linger. If that's what it would take to get them talking, then that's to be expected. She'd used the exact method before and all without using force, mostly because she was good at her job.
Granted... it was a bit tiring. Regardless, she used her arms to gussy her breasts up and checked her makeup in a compact mirror. Good to go... She slipped off the bar stool, leaving a tip on the counter and slipped outside. After slipping ouside, "Cherry" tilted her head to one of the Reapers standing guard beside the door. Ah... hopefully she wasn't rusty.
"Hey, stud," Her voice was a purr as her fingertips tugged at the edges of the Reaper's hood. "When d'ya get off work huh...? I think I got a bottle of wine back at my place with ya' name on it..."
The Reaper moved his head toward the woman with avian like motions. He had black tar oozing out of his mouth and his stained teeth shone brightly, not because of the whites, but the black of the tar was fairly shiny. He let out a series of inhuman grunts with every breath. Tar spittle flying into the woman's face, not enough to make her halucinate, but definitely enough to feel dirty.
She flinched only slightly, her eyes closing, and then reopening, though her expression didn't change. Gross. That owner was suddenly no longer attractive to War. Well... her hands were on him, so clearly whatever this bouncer was on, clearly something related to the gang he worked for, it hadn't made him one hundred percent aggressive. If that black gunk dripping out of his mouth had boiled him down to his instincts, she still had a shot at this. Rather, she wouldn't get him talking, but there was no doubt that he would have something on him to point her in the right direction.
Her language would just need to be a bit more.... simple.
Her hand slowly raised up, pressing the tips over the Reapers lips but in a soft manner. Obviously, she was dealing with something a little more primal. Treat a beast like a beast and don't be surprised if it bites you regardless. Her voice was a bit softer, a little more sultry.
"I can make you feel good," She promised, looking into the shadows of the hood, her stomach churning at the slime slipping around her fingers. She kept her face on. She was trained for this. "Would you like that?"
The reaper bent his knees, now looking up at the girl who put her fingers to his lips. He looked up at her and put his lips around her finger, coating it in his tarry spit. He opened his mouth wide and let out a shriek and took a look around quickly. He was obviously unsure of how to react to the situation. He pulled his gun around to his front and grabbed it with both hands, shrieking once more.
"Uhp,upupupup," War placed her hand on top of the gun, pushing it down and away ever so slightly. Hm... Simpler. "Not like that... like this," She quickly kissed the Reapers nose. Maybe that would send the message across. As she talked, she felt she was speaking in two different voices. Ugh... the ground was shifting--no... focus. She could get this guy away and figure out what she could from whatever she had on him. Just, need, to focus. Despite her senses starting to waver, she held her composure. War tugged at the Reaper's hood again, taking a step toward the alley.
"Come on...~" Her voice was a bit more breathy than she intended, hearing an echo in her mind for all the noises around her. The Reaper let out confused noises, then, after a moment, stumbled along with her. His head ticked side to side in an erratic manner, shrieking a bit quieter now. His eyes darted at "Cherry," then her hand, then her butt, then back around again with no real sense of purpose. War pulled him back into the alley....
...
A muffled thud was heard, followed by a shrieking noise, and a few more muffled thuds followed by a grunt. Then all was quiet.
"Cherry" walked out from the alley in an opposite direction so she wouldn't be seen leaving from the front again, exhaling with her hand on the wall for support as her vision wavered. She wiped away a fresh bit of spit from her face and clutched her prize in her hands. A Reaper Jacket. Perfect. She held his gun in her other hand too as she slammed her back against the wall, willing herself to get her senses straight again. Her fingers reached up and pressed the input button on the nigh-invisible headset hidden like a bud in her ear.
"I have a way in, War panted, slipping out of her forced accent and into her smooth, deeper usual voice. As she'd suspected, the Reaper's pockets had been empty. She didn't need a clue though, not when she had his clothes. "I need a pickup for one of the members, I left him behind a place called 'Bar Dumort.' Poor thing's sick as hell. Get him to the labs before he wakes up, keep it quiet. May as well try to find a cure for this thing... No. I don't need to pull out. It's too good of an opportunity. I'll wire you when I have an update."
She clicked the button on her headset, ending the connection. War sighed, looking behind at the bar for a moment before hurrying away, hiding the gun under her arm as her high heels clicked against the concrete. There was no time to visit the stylist this time. She would just need to make due with whatever she could pull off on herself.
War has Exited the Thread
"Cherry" swiveled in her chair to peer at the bouncers outside the doors window curiously. So, the owner had declared them to be... vocal. Naturally her mind drifted somewhere a little over R rated with the comment, but her thoughts didn't linger. If that's what it would take to get them talking, then that's to be expected. She'd used the exact method before and all without using force, mostly because she was good at her job.
Granted... it was a bit tiring. Regardless, she used her arms to gussy her breasts up and checked her makeup in a compact mirror. Good to go... She slipped off the bar stool, leaving a tip on the counter and slipped outside. After slipping ouside, "Cherry" tilted her head to one of the Reapers standing guard beside the door. Ah... hopefully she wasn't rusty.
"Hey, stud," Her voice was a purr as her fingertips tugged at the edges of the Reaper's hood. "When d'ya get off work huh...? I think I got a bottle of wine back at my place with ya' name on it..."
The Reaper moved his head toward the woman with avian like motions. He had black tar oozing out of his mouth and his stained teeth shone brightly, not because of the whites, but the black of the tar was fairly shiny. He let out a series of inhuman grunts with every breath. Tar spittle flying into the woman's face, not enough to make her halucinate, but definitely enough to feel dirty.
She flinched only slightly, her eyes closing, and then reopening, though her expression didn't change. Gross. That owner was suddenly no longer attractive to War. Well... her hands were on him, so clearly whatever this bouncer was on, clearly something related to the gang he worked for, it hadn't made him one hundred percent aggressive. If that black gunk dripping out of his mouth had boiled him down to his instincts, she still had a shot at this. Rather, she wouldn't get him talking, but there was no doubt that he would have something on him to point her in the right direction.
Her language would just need to be a bit more.... simple.
Her hand slowly raised up, pressing the tips over the Reapers lips but in a soft manner. Obviously, she was dealing with something a little more primal. Treat a beast like a beast and don't be surprised if it bites you regardless. Her voice was a bit softer, a little more sultry.
"I can make you feel good," She promised, looking into the shadows of the hood, her stomach churning at the slime slipping around her fingers. She kept her face on. She was trained for this. "Would you like that?"
The reaper bent his knees, now looking up at the girl who put her fingers to his lips. He looked up at her and put his lips around her finger, coating it in his tarry spit. He opened his mouth wide and let out a shriek and took a look around quickly. He was obviously unsure of how to react to the situation. He pulled his gun around to his front and grabbed it with both hands, shrieking once more.
"Uhp,upupupup," War placed her hand on top of the gun, pushing it down and away ever so slightly. Hm... Simpler. "Not like that... like this," She quickly kissed the Reapers nose. Maybe that would send the message across. As she talked, she felt she was speaking in two different voices. Ugh... the ground was shifting--no... focus. She could get this guy away and figure out what she could from whatever she had on him. Just, need, to focus. Despite her senses starting to waver, she held her composure. War tugged at the Reaper's hood again, taking a step toward the alley.
"Come on...~" Her voice was a bit more breathy than she intended, hearing an echo in her mind for all the noises around her. The Reaper let out confused noises, then, after a moment, stumbled along with her. His head ticked side to side in an erratic manner, shrieking a bit quieter now. His eyes darted at "Cherry," then her hand, then her butt, then back around again with no real sense of purpose. War pulled him back into the alley....
...
A muffled thud was heard, followed by a shrieking noise, and a few more muffled thuds followed by a grunt. Then all was quiet.
"Cherry" walked out from the alley in an opposite direction so she wouldn't be seen leaving from the front again, exhaling with her hand on the wall for support as her vision wavered. She wiped away a fresh bit of spit from her face and clutched her prize in her hands. A Reaper Jacket. Perfect. She held his gun in her other hand too as she slammed her back against the wall, willing herself to get her senses straight again. Her fingers reached up and pressed the input button on the nigh-invisible headset hidden like a bud in her ear.
"I have a way in, War panted, slipping out of her forced accent and into her smooth, deeper usual voice. As she'd suspected, the Reaper's pockets had been empty. She didn't need a clue though, not when she had his clothes. "I need a pickup for one of the members, I left him behind a place called 'Bar Dumort.' Poor thing's sick as hell. Get him to the labs before he wakes up, keep it quiet. May as well try to find a cure for this thing... No. I don't need to pull out. It's too good of an opportunity. I'll wire you when I have an update."
She clicked the button on her headset, ending the connection. War sighed, looking behind at the bar for a moment before hurrying away, hiding the gun under her arm as her high heels clicked against the concrete. There was no time to visit the stylist this time. She would just need to make due with whatever she could pull off on herself.
War has Exited the Thread
ReaptheMusic- Posts : 40
Join date : 2017-01-11
Age : 28
Re: Bar Dumort
by DocTachyon Fri Jan 20, 2017 11:25 am
When Walter drank, he didn't do it to forget, or escape, or whatever the bastards around him drank for. He drank because every once in a while, it's fun to get buzzed. Still, he was in here often enough to sometimes get slipped AA meeting cards. Just because a guy's in a wheelchair, he's a poor sod vulnerable to every damned vice under the sun, right?
Either way, it was hard to focus on enjoying his twenty dollar drink when that 'Cherry' girl was making some big stink with Marie and the Reaper goons. He found that memorable choice of name interesting. Typically, when someone wears a disguise, the idea is to not be noticed - or remembered. Walter figured most of the other booze jockeys wouldn't have noticed that 'Cherry' had in fact been going to the bar for several days. The disguises were good, but consistent skin tone and body type gave it away. Plus, the types she picked - such as the sleepy, alcoholic drunk, and Cherry - weren't really the sort to hit a bar once and then not come back. Then there was the mannerisms. There were overt differences, sure, like the shifty vibe she was going for on the drunk, but the little things stayed the same. The way she scanned the room. The careful calculation of each of her moves, hinted in the brief moment of thought before each choice, whether it be a false clumsy slip or which overpriced beer to order.
What really tipped him off, aside from the distantly similar appearances was probably that she was consistently paying more attention to the Reapers than anyone else did. The tar dripping incessantly from their mouths made their conversational skills worse than their already fucked up appearances. No one's eyes locked on them like hers did. It was brief, sure, but anyone in the city longer than a couple days knows that reapers and tar go together like cripples and wheelchairs. That meant she wasn't a Reaper - even if they were spying on their own people for no reason, they'd be goddamn morons to spy on tarred. Lysander wasn't that stupid. Probably not a Templar, or he would've caught a few hating glances, or maybe a knife in the back if Dmitri's attitude had changed recently. Dust Men don't operate slick enough for spies, and the First Sons could give less than a shit about the Reapers... That left personal vendetta and outside force of some kind. He picked personal vendetta, he figured that to be mildly more entertaining.
He watched 'Cherry' as she left. A tab on her or two would be a neat idea, but he'd want to work on his compression. Someone with that many aliases would blow up his file sizes, and he'd have to bother about making sure everything was encrypted. He took a long drink from his booze as Marie went to the back, Claude taking her place. He nodded at the Frenchman, and took a sip again.
His mind went back the politics of the city, as they usually did. The Templars weren't loosening up in the Warren yet, not that anyone expected them to. Walter'd been calling a Templar assault on Reaper territory, but oddly, they hadn't made a move.
"A move yet." Walter reminded himself. Reapers flew in the face of everything they Templars stood for. The thought of annihilating ooze dripping knuckleheads and their assbag conduit leader was probably what Dmitri jacked to. He looked into his drink. Dmitri... Yeah. He took another long gulp.
Either way, it was hard to focus on enjoying his twenty dollar drink when that 'Cherry' girl was making some big stink with Marie and the Reaper goons. He found that memorable choice of name interesting. Typically, when someone wears a disguise, the idea is to not be noticed - or remembered. Walter figured most of the other booze jockeys wouldn't have noticed that 'Cherry' had in fact been going to the bar for several days. The disguises were good, but consistent skin tone and body type gave it away. Plus, the types she picked - such as the sleepy, alcoholic drunk, and Cherry - weren't really the sort to hit a bar once and then not come back. Then there was the mannerisms. There were overt differences, sure, like the shifty vibe she was going for on the drunk, but the little things stayed the same. The way she scanned the room. The careful calculation of each of her moves, hinted in the brief moment of thought before each choice, whether it be a false clumsy slip or which overpriced beer to order.
What really tipped him off, aside from the distantly similar appearances was probably that she was consistently paying more attention to the Reapers than anyone else did. The tar dripping incessantly from their mouths made their conversational skills worse than their already fucked up appearances. No one's eyes locked on them like hers did. It was brief, sure, but anyone in the city longer than a couple days knows that reapers and tar go together like cripples and wheelchairs. That meant she wasn't a Reaper - even if they were spying on their own people for no reason, they'd be goddamn morons to spy on tarred. Lysander wasn't that stupid. Probably not a Templar, or he would've caught a few hating glances, or maybe a knife in the back if Dmitri's attitude had changed recently. Dust Men don't operate slick enough for spies, and the First Sons could give less than a shit about the Reapers... That left personal vendetta and outside force of some kind. He picked personal vendetta, he figured that to be mildly more entertaining.
He watched 'Cherry' as she left. A tab on her or two would be a neat idea, but he'd want to work on his compression. Someone with that many aliases would blow up his file sizes, and he'd have to bother about making sure everything was encrypted. He took a long drink from his booze as Marie went to the back, Claude taking her place. He nodded at the Frenchman, and took a sip again.
His mind went back the politics of the city, as they usually did. The Templars weren't loosening up in the Warren yet, not that anyone expected them to. Walter'd been calling a Templar assault on Reaper territory, but oddly, they hadn't made a move.
"A move yet." Walter reminded himself. Reapers flew in the face of everything they Templars stood for. The thought of annihilating ooze dripping knuckleheads and their assbag conduit leader was probably what Dmitri jacked to. He looked into his drink. Dmitri... Yeah. He took another long gulp.
DocTachyon- Posts : 12
Join date : 2017-01-11
Re: Bar Dumort
by ReaptheMusic Sun Jan 22, 2017 2:52 pm
Oh good, no Reapers stood at the door tonight.
Not that that would have stopped him.
The door swung open to the Bar Dumort, turning a few heads and making others uneasy as a tall man with a broad back and a sinister looking plague doctor mask stepped in, putting his hands behind his back as his long strides under the skirt of the robes made him appear to slink across the room. He paused, the chatter of the bar got very quiet as his notable appearance drew more than just a few glances.
The obscenely long nose of the mask swept slowly sideways as the man in the plague doctor suit scanned the bar, and then, lowered, when he found who he was looking for. The slinking motion of his walk continued forward, his expression unreadable under the mask. He stopped in front of the table of his destination.
"Walter Baucher.... I presume."
His words were level as they were clearly full of thought. They were also a bit muffled, and he was making an effort to speak clearly through the mask. He sat down at the table with the wheelchair bound man.
"I assume you know who I am?"
Not that that would have stopped him.
The door swung open to the Bar Dumort, turning a few heads and making others uneasy as a tall man with a broad back and a sinister looking plague doctor mask stepped in, putting his hands behind his back as his long strides under the skirt of the robes made him appear to slink across the room. He paused, the chatter of the bar got very quiet as his notable appearance drew more than just a few glances.
The obscenely long nose of the mask swept slowly sideways as the man in the plague doctor suit scanned the bar, and then, lowered, when he found who he was looking for. The slinking motion of his walk continued forward, his expression unreadable under the mask. He stopped in front of the table of his destination.
"Walter Baucher.... I presume."
His words were level as they were clearly full of thought. They were also a bit muffled, and he was making an effort to speak clearly through the mask. He sat down at the table with the wheelchair bound man.
"I assume you know who I am?"
ReaptheMusic- Posts : 40
Join date : 2017-01-11
Age : 28
Re: Bar Dumort
by DocTachyon Sun Jan 29, 2017 12:05 am
Walter instantly recognized the man walking in. It was hard not to, as a Plague Doctor's outfit was fairly anachronistic for a modern metropolis. Balthazaar, the human incarnation of the plague. At least the Sons were still three horsemen short of an apocalypse.
Walter almost felt bad for the bastard. Maggots under the skin, the stench of decay seeping from his shitty Halloween costume - had to be a real turn off for the ladies, bar maybe the necrophiliacs. He wondered if the length of Balthazaar's mask was to compensate for a long since decayed penis. Whether or not it was decayed, Walter decided not to hunt that particular data in the Son's severbank, some thing were better left to the imagination.
Speaking of that Sons database, it was a bitch to crack. It made Fort Knox look like some kid's dumpy sandcastle. He had to get in by riding various connections on personal devices until some dumbfuck got too close to an open access port and let Walter jump into their servers like a hooker out of a birthday cake. Walter appreciated how cleanly they curated the thing. Made digging up the Personnel files real easy, after finessing through a few passwords. Balthazaar's file was the first he watched, as he might as well have been the most recognizable First Son out there. You don't pretend to be in middle ages Italy without getting some notoriety.
First, he watched a feed of Balthazaar's quarters, only place he could disrobe safely. He looked like something out of a horror B-Movie. The pestilence that radiated from has body had an eerie beauty, as if it were life coming from something undead... But Walter didn't have time for that sentimental shit. He was more interested in Balthazaar's experiments. They blew even the depravity of Mengele out of the water. It made Walter almost consider drinking to forget.
Walter was fairly certain he was there for him, and the conduit sitting his disease ridden asshole next to Walter's wheels o' glory indicated he was right on the money.
"That's me, cripple extraordinaire." Walter responded. He could almost see his dark eyes through the thick goggles of the mask. Though, maybe that was his imagination trying to distract him from the suffocating stench wafting from the conduit's seventeenth century gimp suit.
"Well, I'm no bloodhound, but there's only one man in the city who smells like a dead body that isn't six feet underground, and he's you."
Walter almost felt bad for the bastard. Maggots under the skin, the stench of decay seeping from his shitty Halloween costume - had to be a real turn off for the ladies, bar maybe the necrophiliacs. He wondered if the length of Balthazaar's mask was to compensate for a long since decayed penis. Whether or not it was decayed, Walter decided not to hunt that particular data in the Son's severbank, some thing were better left to the imagination.
Speaking of that Sons database, it was a bitch to crack. It made Fort Knox look like some kid's dumpy sandcastle. He had to get in by riding various connections on personal devices until some dumbfuck got too close to an open access port and let Walter jump into their servers like a hooker out of a birthday cake. Walter appreciated how cleanly they curated the thing. Made digging up the Personnel files real easy, after finessing through a few passwords. Balthazaar's file was the first he watched, as he might as well have been the most recognizable First Son out there. You don't pretend to be in middle ages Italy without getting some notoriety.
First, he watched a feed of Balthazaar's quarters, only place he could disrobe safely. He looked like something out of a horror B-Movie. The pestilence that radiated from has body had an eerie beauty, as if it were life coming from something undead... But Walter didn't have time for that sentimental shit. He was more interested in Balthazaar's experiments. They blew even the depravity of Mengele out of the water. It made Walter almost consider drinking to forget.
Walter was fairly certain he was there for him, and the conduit sitting his disease ridden asshole next to Walter's wheels o' glory indicated he was right on the money.
"That's me, cripple extraordinaire." Walter responded. He could almost see his dark eyes through the thick goggles of the mask. Though, maybe that was his imagination trying to distract him from the suffocating stench wafting from the conduit's seventeenth century gimp suit.
"Well, I'm no bloodhound, but there's only one man in the city who smells like a dead body that isn't six feet underground, and he's you."
DocTachyon- Posts : 12
Join date : 2017-01-11
Re: Bar Dumort
by Megz Tue Jan 31, 2017 11:58 pm
“Спасибо Mrs.Sokolov. It was great doing business with you.” Marie replied into the receiver of her vintage rotary phone. As she sat atop her desk listening to her provider chatter on and on, legs crossed gracefully, she looked over the package that had just been delivered. The large black container rested in front of her on the floor; it wasn’t the kind of thing she’d trust in the storage room no matter how much security there was. It was much too important.
“Пожалуйста! I’ll call you again next week, Да? До свидания Mrs.Sokolov.” Marie hung up with a satisfying click and sighed contentedly. All her shipments had arrived on time, she was done with her meetings, and she’d made a decent number of tips. It was nice to have some peace and quiet every once in a while, considering her office was usually bombarded with calls and people this time of the week.
But it had gotten much to quiet. Even with how well the room was sealed she could always hear the chatter of bar patrons but there was none of that. Marie glanced at the package in front of her and then to the door. Cluade hadn’t hit the panic button so it wasn’t something life threatening but Marie still had a bad feeling. She sighed once more, this time dejectedly and stood up from her desk.
As she locked her office door behind her, package safely hidden and paperwork straightened out, Marie noticed the smell. It was faint, but Marie was the kind of person who could smell someone’s cheap perfume from across the room. Marie put on her most gracious smile and entered the main area of the bar, and doing a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. They very easily landed on the individual in the plague doctor suit and Marie had to keep herself from cursing.
She’d heard about one of the higher ups in the First Sons but she’d never expected to see him, much less have him appear in her bar. It was just turning out to be one of those days. Balthazaar was an imposing figure and Marie was unnerved but she was a professional never the less.
Marie did a round of the bar, greeting the patrons allowing the noise level to rise and for the tense atmosphere to alleviate itself though not completely. She’d glanced at the entrance and when she hadn’t seen the bodyguard that had been there before she began mentally preparing the mouthful Lysander was going to get the next time he came around.
Did that woman really try to fuck a tar head?
The though was driven out of her head as the smell of posies hit her.
Marie stopped by the table where Walter and Balthazaar were seated. Walter was a regular and one of Maries favorite customers. He was very good at paying for drinks after all. She smiled graciously at both, resting a hand on Walters shoulder.
“How are you doing mon chou?” she asked Walter kindly though her eyes stayed watching Balthazaar.
“Пожалуйста! I’ll call you again next week, Да? До свидания Mrs.Sokolov.” Marie hung up with a satisfying click and sighed contentedly. All her shipments had arrived on time, she was done with her meetings, and she’d made a decent number of tips. It was nice to have some peace and quiet every once in a while, considering her office was usually bombarded with calls and people this time of the week.
But it had gotten much to quiet. Even with how well the room was sealed she could always hear the chatter of bar patrons but there was none of that. Marie glanced at the package in front of her and then to the door. Cluade hadn’t hit the panic button so it wasn’t something life threatening but Marie still had a bad feeling. She sighed once more, this time dejectedly and stood up from her desk.
As she locked her office door behind her, package safely hidden and paperwork straightened out, Marie noticed the smell. It was faint, but Marie was the kind of person who could smell someone’s cheap perfume from across the room. Marie put on her most gracious smile and entered the main area of the bar, and doing a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. They very easily landed on the individual in the plague doctor suit and Marie had to keep herself from cursing.
She’d heard about one of the higher ups in the First Sons but she’d never expected to see him, much less have him appear in her bar. It was just turning out to be one of those days. Balthazaar was an imposing figure and Marie was unnerved but she was a professional never the less.
Marie did a round of the bar, greeting the patrons allowing the noise level to rise and for the tense atmosphere to alleviate itself though not completely. She’d glanced at the entrance and when she hadn’t seen the bodyguard that had been there before she began mentally preparing the mouthful Lysander was going to get the next time he came around.
Did that woman really try to fuck a tar head?
The though was driven out of her head as the smell of posies hit her.
Marie stopped by the table where Walter and Balthazaar were seated. Walter was a regular and one of Maries favorite customers. He was very good at paying for drinks after all. She smiled graciously at both, resting a hand on Walters shoulder.
“How are you doing mon chou?” she asked Walter kindly though her eyes stayed watching Balthazaar.
Megz- Posts : 14
Join date : 2017-01-13
Re: Bar Dumort
by ReaptheMusic Tue Feb 07, 2017 7:31 pm
"Well, I'm no bloodhound, but there's only one man in the city who smells like a dead body that isn't six feet underground, and he's you."
"Only one?" Came the sharp response, muffled beneath the doctor's mask. "You must not spend much time at all with the dust men."
“How are you doing mon chou?”
Balthazaar raised his head slightly to see a beautiful, short haired woman put her hand on Walter's shoulder. Ah, she really was striking, wasn't she?
"Ah, Ms. Bouvier, how kind of you to join us. You look charming as ever. I'd kiss your hand, but then that would inconvenience the both of us."
Instead, he nodded to her.
"Do take a seat, miss. I have business with you as well this evening. As for you, Mr. Baucher, I took the liberty of blocking in the handicapped parking spaces. Feel free to consider that an invitation to purchase another beverage. I'm buying."
Balthazaar crossed his legs under the folds of his robes, pulling out a seat beside him out for Marie, though his focus was on Walter.
"Only one?" Came the sharp response, muffled beneath the doctor's mask. "You must not spend much time at all with the dust men."
“How are you doing mon chou?”
Balthazaar raised his head slightly to see a beautiful, short haired woman put her hand on Walter's shoulder. Ah, she really was striking, wasn't she?
"Ah, Ms. Bouvier, how kind of you to join us. You look charming as ever. I'd kiss your hand, but then that would inconvenience the both of us."
Instead, he nodded to her.
"Do take a seat, miss. I have business with you as well this evening. As for you, Mr. Baucher, I took the liberty of blocking in the handicapped parking spaces. Feel free to consider that an invitation to purchase another beverage. I'm buying."
Balthazaar crossed his legs under the folds of his robes, pulling out a seat beside him out for Marie, though his focus was on Walter.
ReaptheMusic- Posts : 40
Join date : 2017-01-11
Age : 28
Infamous RPG :: Empire City :: The Neon
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