Post by Ghost the Undead Goddess on Nov 8, 2019 16:31:27 GMT -5
The sound of music was faint within the background, echoing off the bare wall of the near empty building. It was some uppity beat but the lyrics were too low to actually hear what was being sang, if there was any singing anyways. The old warehouse sat on the edge of a long abandoned pier with an unused Shipyard just around the corner. Once used for actual necessities, now it was used for smuggling and hiding and quick get aways should the need arise.
The large steel building itself had seen better days, before weather and wear had worn it old. There were bars on the windows that were discolored due to constant sunlight, the hinges of the doors grew rust and even the doors themselves could be difficult to open at times but it was safe, hidden and comfortable enough.
Along the walls were old storage lockers filled to brim with guns, ammunition, bullet proof armors and other weapons of choice. Other lockers contained regular clothing fitted for different people and others still were stuffed with gold, money and alcohol. Three beds lined a different wall, small knick-knacks and personal belongings either on the sheets or under the frames that showed each bed was claimed by a particular person.
There was a hidden room in the back, where a larger bed was set up for more than one person, along with a vanity and see more lockers filled with the belongings of a woman, though despite that fact the entire area seemed to lack the touch of one. Not that it mattered, the place was still home...
For now.
Aside from the faint music playing from the old radio in the corner, near one of the smaller beds, the sounds of cards being shuffled and delt about on a wooden table made its presence known. Though the warehouse was dim in light and the windows fave little aid from the sun, a handful of hanging lights occasionally swang back and forth on the steel ropes that attached them to the high vaulted ceiling.
Two men sat around a table, one divying up cards for at least three people as he made three separate piles before passing them out, one being placed in front of an empty seat. Coins and a few crumpled dollar bills were pushed to the middle of the table, where an ashtray sat holding a half smoked cigarette, the gray wisps still rising from the cherried end. The smallest of those within the warehouse was a slender, short man with closely cropped black-brown hair. His ever shifting yellowish eyes moved back and forth from the cards he was dealing to the men around the room to the door which stood still and ominous.
"Spider, you have paranoid eyes again." The drawling tone came from the other male sitting across from him. They all had different custom and unusual nicknames to keep their identies secret, to keep themselves safe. Spider was the name of the smallest. He was quick, crafty and scrappy, though a definite underdog and so very much the lowest of the totem pole when it came to the others. The other who spoke was large male, both outsizing Spider in weight, height and muscle mass. In all honesty, everyone except Spider had similar builds.
"Sorry Buck, just getting a little nervous. It's been a while since she went off." Spider gave his response in that high pitched voice of his, scratchy sounding as it left his throat. Buck glanced at his cards, biceps rippling slightly as he leaned forwards to lay his forearms on the table. He had shaggy brown hair that fell around his face and brushed his shoulders, friendly green eyes twinkling upon his face. He was the brother of their leader, their boss per say, but he was a much more relaxed and gentler person.
"I'm sure she'll be fine. Someone would be stupid to tangle with her." Buck responded in that deep tone of his before glancing over at one of the others. "Frost, you playing or what?" At the call of his name, the white haired male turned his attention where Buck and Spider were sitting, obviously waiting for him to take a seat and glance at the cards passed out for him. There was a moment of near silence, as the radio still played, before Frost have a sigh and made his way over, obviously staring out the foggy window wasn't stimulating enough to ignore a good game of cards.
He did have the best poker face.
Frost was built similarly to Buck, large in stature with muscles and fitness. He had a sharp, prominate jawline and the most intense but unreadable blue eyes. He was a very stiff creature, monotoned when taking and very spiritual. Practically anything could be a sign to him and he could turn anything into a sign if it advanced him further along. His long white hair was pulled back into a near ponytail, the end of it brushing the back of his shoulders when he walked, so precisely.
"This game is merely luck, no strategy involved." Frost said in a very cold, blank tone. It was no surprise that he said that, as Buck and Spider glanced at each other before Buck gave a response.
"No-one is forcing you to play. But I will be taking all your money." A grin found it's way into the warm centered male's face, ignoring the stone cold stare from Frost and the eye roll from Spider.
"As long as he isn't hiding an ace up his sleeve." Frost glanced almost accusingly at the smallest of the three, warning a wide eyes and dumbfounded expression from Spider.
"You think I'd cheat?"
"I know you'd cheat. You're the sneaky one." Frost replied smooth and quick, without missing a beat before he turned to look at his cards. Despite his misgiving or options on the game at hand, he put his cards down and threw come coins and ones in the middle pile and waited for the ofhers to make their moves.
Back near the wall where the hidden bedroom lay on the other side, a different male sat at a desk where maps and blueprints were spread about in a near chaotic fashion. A sharp bladed knife stuck out from the old wood, from where he had stabbed it down earlier in a small bought of frustration before cooling off to complete his plans. He sat up in his chair, back against the cushion and his elbows upon the desk. Tattoos ran up and down his muscular arms in different shades and shapes, two guns were holistered to the leather strapes on his chest, atop the white tank he wore. Long black hair fell around his shoulders as cold, emotionless green pools scanned over each paper as plans formed within his head.
"How's it going over there boss?" Buck asked, setting down his cards and throwing more money in the pile before glancing over a broad shoulder to look at his brother. He went by Stag, King of the Heard basically, though that's asnt entirely true. While Stag claimed leadership and was front man if business went wrong, it was definitely her who controlled them with a snap of her fingers.
Her name was Cobra, a tommy-gun weilding vixen who was just as deadly as the nickname she went by. She did what she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted to do it, and no-one could tell her otherwise. Stag had learned a long time ago to let her do her own thing, she'd always come back. That didn't mean he had to like it.
Now, for example, she had been gone all day since earlier that morning. She left before he had awoken, no note or anything but her guns were gone and she was proyout having her own kind of fun. It had been hours since then and Stag was growing irritated and restless at the fact she had yet to return, probably the reason Spider was suddenly on edge all of a sudden. He always got the brunt end of whatever was pissing Stag off during that time. Sometimes Buck and Frost would be dealt bad hands with their boss, but Spider was always the worse.
Annoyance catching up to the large male, Stag reached over to grip the knife stuck in the desk, only to quickly stab it into a different spot in response to his brother's question. This time the blade caught the edge of a blueprint and tore the corner, "Damnit!" Stag snarled, though did nothing to fix the problem as he stood and turned his attention away from the desk. He needed something to distract him from the fact Cobra was still gone, until the doors upfront swung open.
She was accompanied by the dying glow of the sunset around her, reddish-brown hair falling in curls around her face as piercing golden eyes shimmered with a dangerous glint and a half smirk upon her blood red lips. One tommy-gun rested against her shoulder as she held it up, the other dangled by her leg as she stood propped with a hip out. "Miss me boys? I got us a job." Ever in clutch, Cobra was truely the boss of their group.
The large steel building itself had seen better days, before weather and wear had worn it old. There were bars on the windows that were discolored due to constant sunlight, the hinges of the doors grew rust and even the doors themselves could be difficult to open at times but it was safe, hidden and comfortable enough.
Along the walls were old storage lockers filled to brim with guns, ammunition, bullet proof armors and other weapons of choice. Other lockers contained regular clothing fitted for different people and others still were stuffed with gold, money and alcohol. Three beds lined a different wall, small knick-knacks and personal belongings either on the sheets or under the frames that showed each bed was claimed by a particular person.
There was a hidden room in the back, where a larger bed was set up for more than one person, along with a vanity and see more lockers filled with the belongings of a woman, though despite that fact the entire area seemed to lack the touch of one. Not that it mattered, the place was still home...
For now.
Aside from the faint music playing from the old radio in the corner, near one of the smaller beds, the sounds of cards being shuffled and delt about on a wooden table made its presence known. Though the warehouse was dim in light and the windows fave little aid from the sun, a handful of hanging lights occasionally swang back and forth on the steel ropes that attached them to the high vaulted ceiling.
Two men sat around a table, one divying up cards for at least three people as he made three separate piles before passing them out, one being placed in front of an empty seat. Coins and a few crumpled dollar bills were pushed to the middle of the table, where an ashtray sat holding a half smoked cigarette, the gray wisps still rising from the cherried end. The smallest of those within the warehouse was a slender, short man with closely cropped black-brown hair. His ever shifting yellowish eyes moved back and forth from the cards he was dealing to the men around the room to the door which stood still and ominous.
"Spider, you have paranoid eyes again." The drawling tone came from the other male sitting across from him. They all had different custom and unusual nicknames to keep their identies secret, to keep themselves safe. Spider was the name of the smallest. He was quick, crafty and scrappy, though a definite underdog and so very much the lowest of the totem pole when it came to the others. The other who spoke was large male, both outsizing Spider in weight, height and muscle mass. In all honesty, everyone except Spider had similar builds.
"Sorry Buck, just getting a little nervous. It's been a while since she went off." Spider gave his response in that high pitched voice of his, scratchy sounding as it left his throat. Buck glanced at his cards, biceps rippling slightly as he leaned forwards to lay his forearms on the table. He had shaggy brown hair that fell around his face and brushed his shoulders, friendly green eyes twinkling upon his face. He was the brother of their leader, their boss per say, but he was a much more relaxed and gentler person.
"I'm sure she'll be fine. Someone would be stupid to tangle with her." Buck responded in that deep tone of his before glancing over at one of the others. "Frost, you playing or what?" At the call of his name, the white haired male turned his attention where Buck and Spider were sitting, obviously waiting for him to take a seat and glance at the cards passed out for him. There was a moment of near silence, as the radio still played, before Frost have a sigh and made his way over, obviously staring out the foggy window wasn't stimulating enough to ignore a good game of cards.
He did have the best poker face.
Frost was built similarly to Buck, large in stature with muscles and fitness. He had a sharp, prominate jawline and the most intense but unreadable blue eyes. He was a very stiff creature, monotoned when taking and very spiritual. Practically anything could be a sign to him and he could turn anything into a sign if it advanced him further along. His long white hair was pulled back into a near ponytail, the end of it brushing the back of his shoulders when he walked, so precisely.
"This game is merely luck, no strategy involved." Frost said in a very cold, blank tone. It was no surprise that he said that, as Buck and Spider glanced at each other before Buck gave a response.
"No-one is forcing you to play. But I will be taking all your money." A grin found it's way into the warm centered male's face, ignoring the stone cold stare from Frost and the eye roll from Spider.
"As long as he isn't hiding an ace up his sleeve." Frost glanced almost accusingly at the smallest of the three, warning a wide eyes and dumbfounded expression from Spider.
"You think I'd cheat?"
"I know you'd cheat. You're the sneaky one." Frost replied smooth and quick, without missing a beat before he turned to look at his cards. Despite his misgiving or options on the game at hand, he put his cards down and threw come coins and ones in the middle pile and waited for the ofhers to make their moves.
Back near the wall where the hidden bedroom lay on the other side, a different male sat at a desk where maps and blueprints were spread about in a near chaotic fashion. A sharp bladed knife stuck out from the old wood, from where he had stabbed it down earlier in a small bought of frustration before cooling off to complete his plans. He sat up in his chair, back against the cushion and his elbows upon the desk. Tattoos ran up and down his muscular arms in different shades and shapes, two guns were holistered to the leather strapes on his chest, atop the white tank he wore. Long black hair fell around his shoulders as cold, emotionless green pools scanned over each paper as plans formed within his head.
"How's it going over there boss?" Buck asked, setting down his cards and throwing more money in the pile before glancing over a broad shoulder to look at his brother. He went by Stag, King of the Heard basically, though that's asnt entirely true. While Stag claimed leadership and was front man if business went wrong, it was definitely her who controlled them with a snap of her fingers.
Her name was Cobra, a tommy-gun weilding vixen who was just as deadly as the nickname she went by. She did what she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted to do it, and no-one could tell her otherwise. Stag had learned a long time ago to let her do her own thing, she'd always come back. That didn't mean he had to like it.
Now, for example, she had been gone all day since earlier that morning. She left before he had awoken, no note or anything but her guns were gone and she was proyout having her own kind of fun. It had been hours since then and Stag was growing irritated and restless at the fact she had yet to return, probably the reason Spider was suddenly on edge all of a sudden. He always got the brunt end of whatever was pissing Stag off during that time. Sometimes Buck and Frost would be dealt bad hands with their boss, but Spider was always the worse.
Annoyance catching up to the large male, Stag reached over to grip the knife stuck in the desk, only to quickly stab it into a different spot in response to his brother's question. This time the blade caught the edge of a blueprint and tore the corner, "Damnit!" Stag snarled, though did nothing to fix the problem as he stood and turned his attention away from the desk. He needed something to distract him from the fact Cobra was still gone, until the doors upfront swung open.
She was accompanied by the dying glow of the sunset around her, reddish-brown hair falling in curls around her face as piercing golden eyes shimmered with a dangerous glint and a half smirk upon her blood red lips. One tommy-gun rested against her shoulder as she held it up, the other dangled by her leg as she stood propped with a hip out. "Miss me boys? I got us a job." Ever in clutch, Cobra was truely the boss of their group.