Topic: West End Dissatisfaction

Liam Owens

Date: 2015-06-16 13:53 EST
(The following is a collaborative effort between the players of Liam Owens and Silverheart; in response to the Storyline by Issy which can be found HERE and HERE.) The Last Drop Caf" was a little hole in the wall on the cusp of the West End. It was a newer establishment, changing hands a few times over the past few years. Those sorts of things always seemed to happen, but somehow they also remained the same. There was a reason for that. Sometimes things were just as innocent as they would seem, however other times, there were things that were much more complicated than that. The establishment this evening wasn't very busy but it wasn't dead either. Dead. If there was an adult version of Sesame Street, that would be the word of the day. There was a small booth in the corner towards the back. Large enough for two, out of the way, near a not-so obvious rear exit, but pushed up against the window. It was a good location to get a good visual spread of the Caf". With your back up against the wall you could keep an eye on the current patronage, watch people coming from either side of the street, and make your way out of the back door if necessary. Just the way that Liam Owens preferred it. "Lucky' Liam Owens. Or "One Shot' Owens. Depending on who you asked. Hitman, slave trader and Lieutenant of the Terminus Syndicate. He was far from being an unassuming person; and he would either keep to himself or make a spectacle out of his current situation depending on his mood. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind, for good or bad, and was quick to pull a gun if the situation presented himself. He most certainly had a "wise-guy' mentality which easily carried over into his own confident swagger. Owens, being a mid-level underboss was considered a good earner and a viable asset to the Organization. He was dressed in a dark Italian suit this evening, white shirt, black slacks and a slim black tie. When he was standing he was about five foot ten, one hundred eighty-one hundred and eighty-five pounds, clean shaven with bluish-green eyes. Sitting in the booth with a lit cigarillo is one hand and a coffee cup in the other, sans coffee. The dark liquid that was in there was Liam's own version of Irish coffee " bourbon neat. Off just to the side was a folded newspaper, the Rhy"Din Post, with the front headline West End Prostitution Ring Broken, which was clearly visible. Sitting across from him was Kayleigh Ann Silverheart. Like Liam, she was dressed for business. From neck to toes, her freckled body was dressed in soft black leather. Resting over the neck of her gear was the sleek silver collar inscripted with "L.O." that Liam had given her, which she wore proudly. Boots that matched her gear covered her feet, laced tight. As always when she wore the leather, wicked looking twin daggers rested on her hips, and twin crystal blades peeked out from over her shoulders. Her mess of reddish brown locks were pulled up on top of her head in a loose bun. There were several wisps of hair that had escaped, and dropped down in tendrils, curling, and otherwise not behaving like the rest of her hair. Warm honeyed eyes, framed by thick lashes, were settled on the teacup of black tea with just a hint of orange zest that her hands were wrapped around. Almost everything about her screamed proper English woman. The rigidity of her spine, the way she held her tea cup, the fact that she had insisted on sugar cubes above anything else for her drink, the lilting accent that danced through her words. There was something else that lingered underneath all of that though, as she was Kayleigh, Liam's own personal little Dark Angel. She had come into it so easily, fell so well, and all she had needed was just a little nudge in the wrong direction. Then again, when it felt like the ones she had been serving, and taking orders and assignments from for the majority of her life had given up on her, not even so much as attempted to find her, it had been so easy, to fall in step with Liam. To free herself of the code of conduct she had lived by, no longer burdened, limited, was absolutely exhilarating. And she was loving every moment of it. After a sip of his bourbon Liam took a long drag of his cigarillo. The cherry burned bright red between the ash and the leaf as his eyes squinted, Liam unfolded the newspaper, revealing three photos that had been tucked away inside. As his lips released from the short, narrow cigar, they opened as smoke densely rose from his mouth. He didn't bother to exhale, and instead the smoke would pour out of his mouth as he spoke. Her eyes watched the tendrils of smoke that curled away, and twisted from his lips as he smoked. For a brief moment, she was distracted by thoughts that had nothing to do with why they were there today. There was brief mental chiding followed by a minute shake of her head that cleared it and brought her attention back to Liam's words.

"Two nights ago, the sloppiness of a few of our associates came to light as the Watch, and one of the members of the Scathachians, decided to capitalize on it." He spoke with the same accent and confidence of a made-man. Despite his very Irish name it was quite apparent that there were some Italian roots tucked away beneath those blueish-green eyes. The word he used, "our", only recertified the fact that he had considered Kayleigh to be one of his own, or possibly " his own, which was noted by her, and it may have tugged the corners of her mouth up in a ghost of a smile.

"Because of that, it's hurt our pockets; and if they don't keep their mouths shut, it can do far" far worse." Putting the cigarillo down into the ashtray on the table, he now held the three photographs in both if his hands, shuffling through them as he continued to speak. "We can't have them do that. I need them taken care of before they decide to cop a confession, or worse, make it to their indictment. Like I said last night, I don't want them breathin", I don't want any witnesses and I want them left where they can be found " made examples out of." Placing two of the photographs down in front of him he put the other one to the side. Spinning it around, he slowly slid it across the table for Kayleigh to have a look. Seconds after he slid the pictures across the table from her, she rocked, leaning forward and resting on her elbows, so that she could get a closer look at the men in the images. Other than that, and her occasional nods, she remained quiet, as she had been, simply absorbing everything that he was telling and showing her.

"The first guy is Fareeshel, first name Raleigh. He was the main proponent of the establishment. Probably the one mostly responsible for this little" eff up. If my guess is right, he'll be the one that they're lookin" to question the most." Sliding the second photograph from in front of him, he once again spun it around and moved it across the table. He glanced up for a moment to keep an eye on his current audience and then off to the side to look out of the window as the light drizzle began to form small droplets on the exterior glass.

It looked like a storm was coming. "This is Stelv"uan Mareone, goes by Gus. He'll be the hardest to crack, despite the fact that he's the smallest. The Watch won't be gettin" nuttin" outta him, but regardless " he's an accessory, and the loose ends need to be tied up." Last photograph, last spin, and last one given over to her.

A single finger moved to touch to the corner of the third image, and pulled it closer after he'd spin it in her direction. "This guy," he said with a tap of his finger, pointing directly at the face in the photograph, "is Quirro Veasller. He's a talker, quite possibly a squealer, definitely the clown that'll yap to save his own life. He won't do it in front of the guys, but I have a feelin" he'll do what?s necessary once he see's the evidence mounted against "em." Liam leaned back, taking a long sip of Bourbon before continuing on. He rested his back against the chair, watching the woman in front of him as she analyzed her targets, taking in the way she worked. Kayleigh studied the three images for a moment longer after he'd finished speaking, before one by one she turned them back in his direction, and pushed them back to him. Each face and name had been committed to memory. She didn't need them. "They're gonna be indicted on all sorts of charges rangin" from human trafficking to prostitution," he continued, retreating the photos back into the serenity of the folds within the newspaper. "And despite the fact that they're low men on the totem pole, we don't need anyone tryin" to make any ties back to the family. Capiche?"

These words had her eyes sliding up along his chest, and from there to his blue green ones. "Capiche. I am to figure out a way to get in, eliminate the men, before any of them say anything. They are being kept in jail, currently, yes" Do you have location of where they are being kept?"

Liam maintained eye contact with her, his usual flirtatious behavior and tone was far from being displayed with her. Usually, as they spoke, he would make it quite obvious where his mind would wander. But tonight, or at least for now, business was business. Although the way he looked at her — there was definitely much more there.

"Here in the West End still," he responded, "They're still in the precinct holding cell and haven't been transferred out yet. I figure we could make a little distraction, and bein" a woman of yer talents, I'm sure your expertise here will definitely come in handy."

Business was important, and it seemed like she was perfectly at ease setting aside their other relations to make sure it was discussed. Her attention was rapt, focused on him, and every word he told her. Though, that didn't stop her from noting that there was something just a little more lingering between them.

His words brought her back to the task on hand, and soon enough, she was bobbing her head in understanding. Soon enough, a grin had the corners of her mouth curling upwards. "A little distraction is all I would need. I've got that, and it'll be a piece of cake. Thanks to said talents." She leaned forward to rest on her elbows, and downed a couple gulps of her tea. "Any Idea as to when this will be happening" Or is that for me to decide?"

As she asked the first part of her question Liam brought the cigarillo to his mouth, pulling on it for a long drag. The cherry burned bright red before slowly receding into the ash that it left behind. Sliding the newspaper back in front of him Liam opened it to the back page, exhaling a small plume of smoke with the sweet aroma of refined tobacco swirling around him. His eyes scanned over the black ink, running across the letters and pictures with his middle finger until he stopped on a small picture of a cloud with lightning on today's date.

"Forecast for tonight is callin" fer thunderstorms," he said with a nod. "Yanno, things happen in the West End when there's thunderstorms lingerin" about. Power goes out, fires spark, could be a real mess at times." The way he spoke exuded the confidence and the swagger of a made man and there was a certain charisma in which the way he put things.

Her eyes fell to the paper when he opened it, and dropped to where his finger was resting. Tonight's Forecast. Thunderstorms. Followed up by his words, she could already envision how most of it would go down. Power outage. Fire. Everyone important would be busy trying to take care of those two things, and save their own skins. Who would notice, until well after she was gone, that three new prisoners were dead"

"Be a damn shame if somethin" happened to those boys tonight." And with that, his coy eyes looked back up across the table at her, reiterating his words. "Damn shame."

It took a moment, before her amber hues danced up to find his eyes, a smile on her face. "A damn shame, indeed.?

Silverheart

Date: 2015-07-02 19:41 EST
The rain had picked up significantly in the past few hours, coming down harder at sometimes then at others as the thunderclouds rolled through the west end. Lightning flashed, illuminating the brickface buildings of the West End at just a few minutes past one in the morning, rumbles of thunder following a few seconds behind. Just as the forecasts had been predicting all day, late spring thunderstorms had moved into the area. The rainwater had puddled in the gutters where trash had blocked its egress and the street was completely devoid of life. Stray animals had sought out shelter long ago and the weather was too miserable for any decent person to be out. Decent people. Decent people weren't kneeling on a rooftop across from a Westend police station in the pouring rain at 1AM wearing a black ski-mask, black jacket, shirt, gloves, cargo pants and military style boots. The collar of the jacket was pulled up around the neck, keeping the rain from running down his back. His gloved hands slowly twisted the final fixture onto his modified M4, an extended silencer. After he ensured it was tight he reached into a black duffle bag that was on the deck and removed an incendiary round. Placing it into the action he let the slide go forward and chamber the round. He didn't use a magazine as the rifle was intended to, he was only looking to fire one round. He only needed one round. "One Shot' Owens had long lived up to his name. Despite the fact that he could be considered quite arrogant, which was well deserved, this was more about confidence in his abilities. Dressed incognito, Liam didn't mind doing the dirty work as a Lieutenant; but at the same time he didn't want anything that could be traced back to him. His whole attire was brand new, never been worn and never to be worn again. The same could be said for the rifle. No serial numbers, no fingerprints, all custom parts. Liam was a professional in his line of work and long before he was a Lieutenant — he was a hitman. Liam brought the rifle up, resting it on the refrigeration unit that was on top of the roof, balancing it carefully for stability. Peering his eye down the scope the sounds of rain hitting the metal on either side of the rifle felt like it was echoing through his ears. Droplets of water splashed up at him as he adjusted the stock and zeroed in on his target: a 500 gallon gasoline storage tank located on the side of the police precinct. The tank was connected to a generator that would automatically turn on in the event of a power outage, supplying electricity for the station. Lightning flashed again and Liam waited patiently for the right moment. Thunder rumbled, Liam waited. His breathing was steady, his demeanor calm, the next opportunity would be his. Water dripped down his covered brow, yet nothing would make him waver. Mother nature was in control now and whenever she decided to show up he would" Lightning flash. Three. His finger moved from the trigger guard. Two. Finger smoothed itself against the trigger. One. He slowly inhaled. Thunder rumbled. Liam exhaled and fired. The muffled shot was concealed as thunder rolled through the alleys and streets. The single incendiary round soared through the air and struck the tank, piercing through the top of the metallic tank with the slightest flicker of a small flame on impact. That was it. That was all he needed. Pulling the rifle up, Liam quickly unscrewed the silencer and shoved it in the duffle bag. A quick turn of his heel and the sniper rifle was tossed in there as well. Zipping up the duffle bag he rose to his feet and made his way towards the roof access, and his exit. The gasoline was lit inside of the tank, it was only a matter of time now before Mother Nature would, once again, run its course.

Decent people.

Decent people were also not crouched between two trash cans across the street from the West End Police station either. But there, Kayleigh Silverheart was crouched, peeking out every once in a while to survey the station and her other surroundings. She knew she had time, even if it wasn't much, she knew it would be enough for her to do what she needed to.

One last glance was tossed around, before her hand slipped down to her boot, and pulled her thin stele from it. It was the color of burnished silver, almost a foot long, with curls and wispy designs carved at it. One end flared out slightly, while the other ended with a crystal of a deep golden color.

She already had applied several marks earlier. Runes. Symbols that granted extraordinary and supernatural abilities to the wearer, so long as they had the ability to wield such a unique power. They were usually weapons against demonic or unnatural beings. But tonight, they would be given new purpose.

One of the marks that she had already applied was for healing, an Iratze was left unfinished, right above the swell of her chest. There was one for heightened speed on her calf, one for strength burned into her right upper arm. Not that any of them were currently visible, as she was covered from head to toe in black leather gear, which seemed to be water resistant, as the rain beaded up and rolled off of it when it landed. On each hip was a wicked looking dagger, two parts of a matching pair. Criss-crossed across her back was another pair of twin crystal blades. The hilts peeked out over her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back into a tight french braid, and the few parts that had escaped were plastered to her forehead, or the back of her neck with water.

The thin leather gloves she wore were carefully pulled off, and the first few top buttons of her gear were unbuttoned so she could pull part of it aside. Freckles, and the edges of marks already there peeked out from the leather. Without hesitation, she brought the stele up, touched the crystal end to her skin. It glowed on contact, and quickly, efficiently, she began drawing Mendelin, the rune for invisibility. Nyx, the rune for night vision was burned into the other side of her chest. The cuff of her gear was rolled back enough for her to leave a precision rune right above her wrist. Soundless was left on her leg, just above the edge of her boot. The scent of something burning was refreshed with each mark she left on her skin.

Once she was finished with marking herself, she buttoned her shirt back up, tucked the stele back into her boot, and pulled back on her thin leather gloves. Then her attention shifted back to the Police Station.

For now, all she had left to do was wait. She knew Liam was somewhere up on the roofs. And she knew it would only be a matter of time.

There was probably an exact science to just how long it would take, but those sorts of calculations weren't something Liam Owens bothered with. The mathematics he did care about was measured more in credits and cents, gold weight, kilograms and profit. He knew it would happen soon, but the surprise would be just as much his as it was Kayleigh's.

A watched pot never boiled, and he was busy doing other things in the interim. The ski mask, black jacket and boots were quickly exchanged inside of the roof access for black athletic pants, beat up classic style sneakers and a Rhy'Din sports team shirt. Lastly, an older style gray trench coat was wrapped around him, protecting him from the falling rain. The only thing that remained on him during the entire transition was the black leather gloves.

Shoving his previous attire in the bag, he headed down the ladder well stairs of the roof access and out of a non-alarmed emergency door, quickly finding himself in the side alley. He walked towards a closed dumpster and in one motion, he opened it and tossed the duffel bag inside.

Now, quickly working on his black gloves, he made sure to use the covered tips of his fingers to work off each glove passed his palms before removing them, revealing a second set of clear latex gloves beneath them. Lobbing the black leather gloves into the dumpster also he closed it shut, making sure not to draw any unwanted attention to himself.

He walked back towards the corner of the alley then, shielding himself from the pouring rain. He removed the latex gloves and retreated them both into his non dominant hand. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small disposable lighter and dangled these gloves in front of him as he struck the flint of the lighter, holding the flame underneath the latex.

The material quickly shriveled up, dripping with the remnants of petroleum based products, and erasing any fingerprint trail that might've been left behind.

Professional.

If there was one thing that could be said about Mr. Owens, the man was a professional.

Perhaps it was even a bit overkill on burning up the gloves. However, Liam had managed to avoid getting sloppy for his entire career, he wasn't about to slip up now.

He walked out of the alley with both hands tucked into his pockets. Collar was once again pulled up around his neck and as he exited the alley, he made his way in the opposite direction of the police precinct. His head was tucked down as he traveled down the first block, then the second, minding his own business and taking the role of any denizen that could be in the street that night, all while the pressure cooked up inside of the gas container. Despite the weather, it had been a rather quiet evening, but that was all about to change.

Suddenly, with a thundering boom, the 500 gallon container exploded with a bleve, blowing out of its sides as it were designed to. Fire erupted as the lights on the block went out, including that of the police station.

Silverheart

Date: 2015-07-02 19:48 EST
The thundering boom and flames that followed seconds later was all she had been waiting for, to confirm that it was indeed the gas tank connected to the generator that had exploded, and not just another crackle of thunder. With a smile, solely for herself, she pulled her stele from her boot again, and straightened.

Silent, invisible, and otherwise unnoticeable, she ran across the darkened street with abandoned, faster than she normally would have, thanks to the marks she had left on her skin earlier. All it took when she reached the front gate to open it, was a rune, scrawled across where it locked, before it clicked open softly. Then she nudged it open just wide enough for herself to slip through, and left it open in her wake. Who would notice when there were guards and watchmen, and various others freaking out everywhere" Instead of heading for the front door, where she guessed there would be more people streaming from, especially in the first few moments of confusion that followed the blast, she headed for the side door.

Another rune unlocked this door as well, and she slipped inside. Silent feet carried her down the hallway, past one" two people. One she was assuming was a guard. The other looked like a slightly dazed custodian. Neither of them noticed her. Just how she intended it to be. As she slid around the corner, she couldn't help but grin. Not that she was going to admit it aloud to anyone, but it felt good to be doing something that didn't involve annoying Leeches who tried to go after anything with a pulse. Or Angsty Werewolves. It felt incredibly good.

As she hurried towards the holding cells, which took several turns down various hallways, she came across more and more people in the darkness, all confused, and some shouting, or making different requests. A couple of times people bumped into her, ran into her. But not once did anyone ever grab, or even realize that they couldn't see whatever they had bumped into.

Eventually, she managed to make her way to the holding cells. There were four, just barely illuminated through high protective windows by the dancing of flames from the fire outside.

She drifted, from cell to cell, (there weren't many), and and out of the first three she checked, she only found one other person inside. A quick study of his face had let her know that he wasn't who she was looking for. In fact, he reeked of alcohol, and looked like he was passed out. She had a feeling she wouldn't have to worry about him at all. It was the fourth and final cell in that hallway, where she found the three faces she was looking for. And after a moment or two, she grinned, widely.

She stopped, just as she reached the door to their holding cell, and reached out to tap her stele against one of the bars, then dragged it up along just one. Tink. Tink. Tink. Slssshhhhhhh. She knew they couldn't see her. She was going to have just a little fun with it.

The three individuals had been looking for a way out since the explosion happened. Somewhere, hoping against hope, they thought that this might've been their way out. Maybe someone had come for them, maybe that someone was coming for someone else in the precinct. It didn't matter. The entire station was going crazy with the ongoings outside. If they could just find a way to get the sliding bars open...

"You three fucked up." The words were said soft enough that they wouldn't carry, but loud enough for all three of them to hear.

Fareeshel was the first one to turn around when he heard Kayleigh speak. Someone had come for them, and he hoped that the voice he heard was there to get them out, even though she had proclaimed that they had fucked up.

His eyes squinted in the darkness, trying to see if someone was there.

"Who is dat?" Quirro Veasller asked, with a bit of a snarl. He was always the first to talk, the chatter box type. "Get us the hell outta here."

"It doesn't matter who I am. I promise." She brought the stele down and to the lock on the door. For a moment, it glowed with the rune she had drawn on the lock. Seconds later the glow faded, and the door clicked open. "Tsk. I don't even get a please" And you really expect me to actually let anyone of you guys out' Honestly. That's no way to get anywhere." A soft girlish giggle followed after the words.

Her stele was tucked away, back into her boot, and on the way back up, her hand freed one of the daggers from her hip.

"In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you died in there. All three of you. Raleigh Fareeshel. Stelv"uan "Gus" Mareone. And Quirro Veasller. I'm actually quite certain that this cell will be your grave."

"Who are you?" Fareeshel asked now, his eyes narrowing as he was trying to make sense of just who, or what, they were talking to.

"Who gives a crap Raleigh?" Veasller chimed in. "Alright, look, lady, could ya pleeeeease get us outta here?" He clasped his hands together, shaking them gently as he psuedo-begged for her to let them out. Gus, however, took a step back, leaning against the wall to make sure that no one could come up behind him. He folded his arms over his chest and watched the interaction. Fareeshel might've been skeptical, Quirro didn't like what was going on.

"I thought I told you that it didn't matter who I was. Though." She paused for a moment, to pull the door open, finally, and slipped through it, and into the holding cell. When she shut the door, she let it clatter loudly behind her, signaling that she was indeed, inside with them now. Though, instead of standing there right in front of the door, which had locked when she shut it, she skittered off to the side, and out of the way, in case any of them tried rushing for it.

"But I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. An angel. Here to right' One...Two' Three" mistakes."

"-the fuck?" Fareeshel asked, taking a step back. Veasller on the other hand, didn't care. Pushing Fareeshel to the side he made a break for the bars. Practically slamming into them, his arms reached towards the far end of the door and he pulled desperately, and with no avail, to open the doors.

"C"mon!" Veasller yelled now, a slight tremble in his voice. "Let me out!"

Me. There was no we, or us. This man was certainly out for himself.

"Gus" Mareone still remained completely still while Fareeshel had been paying close attention to her words. He was the one trying to make sense of the situation.

"You a cop?" he asked as Quirro Veasller still hopelessly pulled on the bars.

Raleigh had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question. An Angel" Unless, for some reason, a Scathian went rogue, this wasn't someone on the same side as the law. She watched with amusement as they began to panic. Especially Veasller, as he flung himself at the door and tried to get out. To no avail. As she watched, she drew her second dagger, and studied it for a moment. She was quiet for the most part, just letting them stew in their confusion and panic, until one of them asked if she was a cop. It took a moment, before she laughed loudly at him.

"You wish I was a cop. You might have actually gotten out of here breathing.? And with that, she moved to close the distance between her and Veasller. He would be first, as he was making too much noise. Such racquet may draw the attention of someone, even in all the chaos.

She was quick, almost too quick to be followed by sight, had it not been so damn dark. One hand moved to catch him by the shoulder enough to turn him just a little bit. In the same motion, she brought the dagger in her right hand up, and slid the blade directly across his throat, all the way up to the hilt, and easily slicing through both carotid arteries on both sides of his neck. Then, just as quickly as she had struck, she was pulling back, retreating from the doorway again.

Silverheart

Date: 2015-07-02 19:53 EST
There was a gurgle that erupted from him, which he forced out with all of his might and was supposed to be a yell. Blood and air rushed into his windpipe, nearly drowning him in his own fluids as he tried to inhale in desperation. Quirro Veasller brought both of his hands up around his neck, trying to hold together the now open hole in his neck. Spinning around, he slammed his back into the bars, sliding down to his rear as he helplessly tried over and over to breath in; instead filling his throat and lungs more and more with his own blood.

Raleigh jumped back a bit, barely being able to see Veasller's eyes rolling back into his head and losing consciousness through the darkness. The color of his friends face fading as well as the color of his own, and while his friend's body was drained of blood, Raleigh's was filling with fear.

Gus on the other hand was ready for a fight, if there was one to be had. His hands dropped down to his sides and turned into fists, moving into a ready position in case the assassin was going to come at him. He was weaponless and at an extreme disadvantage, but Mareone would fight this one through — so long as he could.

She was silent as she watched Veasller struggle to suck in air, and began to choke on his own blood instead. She watched as he spun, and slammed back into the bars, then finally slid to the ground. Then she glanced to her arm, where she had unfortunately, ended up with a bit of blood on her gear. Her nose crinkled in distaste.

"There. Now there's less noise being made. So. Which one of you two is next?" She paused, and let her eyes dance between the two of them. Finally they settled on Gus, and she grinned. "Hey. Tiny' You look ready to die. Come on. Let's dance. Your tiny fists against my blades."

As she spoke, she slowly starting making her way towards him, quietly loving the fact that she was near impossible to locate at the moment.

Gus" eyes danced back and forth through the barely illuminated darkness. He watched for the flickers of fire reflecting off of the walls from the outside. The roar of sirens and horns sounded in the distance, Firetrucks were finally on their way. His left hand began feeling out in front of him, angling his posture to rear back his right hand to strike if he were to feel something. Fareeshel took that opportunity to retreat back towards the corner of the bars, hoping to feel around for some sort of an exit while his partner was busy with the attacker.

Stelv"uan's hand danced out in front of him. He still didn't speak, although his breathing told another tale. His adrenaline was pumping hard and so were his breaths. He wasn't the type of man to be shaken easily, but seeing as what his opponent had just done, within the concealment of darkness, he was going to do his best to stop her from doing the same thing to him.

The sound of sirens told her that she didn't have much longer to play around with the two of them. It took all of perhaps fifteen seconds of watching him to figure out what his mistake was. He was focusing on feeling in front of him. As if she were going to approach him from the front. With that realization, she started moving again, circling around, so that she was merely a foot behind him.

"Boo."

Like the strike of cobra, her left hand flicked out, driving its dagger into his lower back, right where his kidney was protected by nothing but flesh, and the clothes he was wearing. Seconds later, the other blade would come up to slash a clean line across his throat, deep enough to catch the carotid arteries once again. Then, using the one blade that was sunk into his lower back as leverage, she pushed him forward, towards the corpse of his buddy that he was soon to join. Gus couldn't even pull a swing off before he was slumped over, being dispatched quicker than Veasller, due to the more intense injuries.

Both of Fareeshel's hands flung up, palms out towards Kayleigh's direction in a non threatening manner.

"Woah, woah, woah, look!" Raleigh said, stepping backward. "Look, I don't want any trouble. We can make a deal. I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I'm sure we can make some sort of an arrangement."

Sweat trickled down his brow as he worriedly looked back and forth, pushing his back into the corner once more so that she couldn't sneak up behind him.

"I have money, I have friends, we can work somethin" out! I swear! Get me outta here and I'll promise you'll be rewarded, no one's even gotta know about these guys. I won't say shit!"

"Too many deals have been made. Obviously, you fucked up on the last one you were working on. Or the three of you wouldn't have been here. You've made a mess of things." She made a soft disappointed sound in the back of her throat.

"As for an arrangement, you're the last person I'd want to make one with. Plus, there's only one person I make arrangements with. And It's not you." As she spoke, she started making her way towards him. The only way he'd be able to tell that she was getting closer to him, was by her voice.

"You're not leaving this cell alive. I've already told you that. So the way I see it, is you have two choices. Accept your fate, and I'll make it quick and painless. Fight me, and I'll make your death painful. It's as simple as that, Raleigh. Make your choice."

"So then show yourself!" He yelled back at her, the tone of his voice being drowned out by the sounds of sirens now. His fear had turned into anger, hearing her accusing him of being sloppy, and for that reason, getting caught. He wasn't going to have his fate dictated to him.

"Don't be a coward. Face me and fight me! Show yourself!"

His words made a brow crawl up her face a little, before she burst into laughter again. "You've the nerve to call me a coward" When moments ago you were begging and pleading and trying to bribe me into letting you go. Ha." Revealing herself meant that there was a possibility of someone coming around the corner, and seeing her her face. Then she would have to hunt down whoever it was, and add another body to the count.

She continued moving until she was less than a foot away from him, and brought up one of her daggers to press against the flesh of the underside of his chin. She put enough pressure into it for the blade to bite into his skin. "I told you you have two options. You've made your choice."

She promised to make it painful. And that's exactly what she did when she brought the other blade up, and moved to stab him in the gut. Two seconds later she gave the blade a twist. And due to the placement of the other blade" It'd stab him if he jerked forward.

His dark eyes winced as he felt the cold steel enter his gut. Gritting his teeth he exhaled sharply as he tried to fight through the pain. However, once she twisted the blade, his jaw opened to let out a scream, dipping into the blade to cut into the lower pallet of his mouth.

Both of his hands reached out, trying to grab the lower weapon and pull it from his gullet while he jumped backward into the wall.

If Raleigh hadn't of screamed, he may have lasted longer. But the last thing that she wanted, was for any more attention be drawn to their particular hallway, before she managed to escape. So when he stepped back, and started groping for the blade sunk into his stomach, she let him. But that was because she needed both hands for what she did next.

One hand was wrapped around the hilt, while the other hand came to rest on the pommel, to add just a little extra force into the thrust, aimed straight for his throat, and upwards, just a little bit.

Before he could even yell any further the blade caught him completely off guard, as he was focused on removing the one from his abdomen. With the slick sound of steel piercing flesh, the foot long blade traversed through his throat, mouth and punctured the lower part of his brain and brain stem.

His two hands became weak, releasing themselves from the hilt, and falling by his sides limp. Fareeshel's eyelids slowly lowered, his life escaping him as they did so. There was no longer any feeling, any anger, any fear. Raleigh Fareeshel was no longer alive.

Not that he knew, but the whole entire time she kept her eyes on him, watching, as the light faded from his eyes. Then, she dropped to the floor with him, guiding his body to the floor, before she pulled her blade free of his head, and wiped it clean on his clothing. Then she pulled the second one from his stomach, and wiped that one clean as well.

Her job was done, but there was one last thing that she wanted to do before hand. Something that hadn't been in the plan, but she figured would be a nice touch. And perhaps point the blame in another direction. The Scathachian Warriors. Why not give them something to be kept busy with, and off of Liam, and especially The Syndicate's tail"

She moved once again towards the corpse of Veasller, and crouched long enough to rip off a length of his shirt and dipped it in the blood that had pooled on the ground below him. Then, she wandered over towards the cement wall, where she would begin writing a single word, in big block letters, pausing only to sip the fabric in blood and continue. Once she was finished, she took a step back so she could admire her handiwork. A grin curled across her face, before she tossed the rag to the ground, and pulled her stele from her boot long enough to unlock the door of the holding cell, and pulled it shut behind her.

Her escape from the Precinct was just as uneventful as when she made her way in.

Firefighters worked for the next hour to contain and extinguish the blaze. Onlookers gathered, despite the fact of the steady rain that had been pouring down. All the attention was on the exterior of the precinct, and continued to be so after the fire as Police officers, Firefighters and utility workers surveyed the damage after the fire. The building itself only suffered exterior smoke damage, along with fire damage to the electrical service. The major extent of the damage was kept to the gasoline container and generator, which had been offset from the building itself.

Later in the morning, after when the lights came back on, and the guards decided to perform their rounds and check on the prisoners in the holding cells; the three men, caught and facing charges, varying, and all centered around prostitution, would be found dead in their cell, and written in big block letters, in their own blood, was a single word.

"JUSTICE."

Liam Owens

Date: 2015-07-13 14:08 EST
A vibrating sound emerged through a barely illuminated room. It was buzzing and vibrating in a pattern for a moment before a ringing began to accompany it, along with the illumination of a touch screen. The ringing and vibrating persisted as movement from the bed began to shuffle. A shirtless Liam Owens appeared, releasing himself from the woman who was just in his arms a second prior. Turning around, he reached for the smartphone on the nightstand and pulled it up to look at the screen.

When Liam unwrapped himself from her, so he could answer the phone, she stirred, and gave a sleepy groan.

"Liam?" Her voice was small, groggy, and half awake.There was a brief squint sent his way, before she realized that it was his phone going off. With that realization she closed her eyes, and curled back up, as she was still exhausted. That didn't mean though, that she wasn't keeping tabs on what was being said, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. His eyes squinted as they were not yet adjusted to the light. Recognizing the name, his thumb moved and swiped to answer the call.

"Hello?" Liam said, his voice groggy and low. "Liam, it's Lips," the man responded on the other line. "Look, I heard about the thing." "Oh yeah?" Liam responded, waking up a bit more now. "Yeah. I'm gonna want cha to come in." "Alright, just tell me where and when." "Three O"clock, at the restaurant." There was a definitive New York Italian accent on the other line. "Alright, I'll be there." "Alright." Pulling the phone away from his ear he looked at his screen again. Before he could press the button to end the call, the call ended itself. The conversation was short, abrupt, and could even be considered intimidating. The man wanted Liam to "come in", and he heard about "the thing". Although that wasn't the case. It was strictly wiseguy talk. Keep it simple, don't reveal too much. You could never be too careful and you never knew who was listening or who was around. The words that transpired between Liam and who ever else it was raised a couple questions to mind for Kayleigh, but she figured that if she needed to know, that Liam would tell her, so she didn't prod, and didn't ask. Liam glanced down at his phone again, looking at the time. 9:02am It had been a long night. Between the events at the police precinct, getting back to Kayleigh's new place and making sure that he hadn't been followed. Lastly, he and Kayleigh had celebrated for over an hour before finally falling asleep. So, now that it was passed 9am, they had barely gotten three hours of sleep. But there was no rest for the weary. Or the Wicked. Going back to his smartphone again he thumbed through his contacts. There were only first names, or nicknames, listed in his contacts. No last names, no address or business information. Only name and number. Stopping at "Vinny' he pressed the contact and then pressed again for the phone number. Checking for it to ring first, he brought it up to his ear and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. It was still early and he imagined that Vinny would have almost the same problem picking up the phone as he did. *Click* "Yeah boss?" "Mornin" sunshine." "Mornin"," was offered back, the man yawning through his words. "I'm gonna need a car, and one of my suits, up at the new place by eleven." "Eleven?" "Yeah." "The new place?" Vinny reaffirmed. "The new place." He answered back. "Alright boss, I'll be there." Liam removed the phone from his ear and pressed "end" before placing it down on the nightstand. Turning back around into the bed, his hand slid over the bare back of the woman, slipping around her front as he placed a kiss on her on her shoulder. "Kayleigh, we need to go dress shoppin"."

His second call was a lot less cryptic, made a little more sense. Someone was to ready a car, and bring a suit up to her place. Or at least she was assuming it was her place.

Her back arched a little when his hand glided along it, then slipped towards her front. The kiss to her freckled shoulder, followed by his words, finally made her stir. She wasn't going to be getting any more sleep like she wanted. So with another groan, she moved to push herself up so she was sitting, and fixed him with a bleary and short stare. She almost asked him what was wrong with the dresses she already had, but instead, bit back the question, and brought her hands up so she could rub her eyes with the heels of them.

Once she was done, her hands dropped back down into her lap, and she gave a wide yawn, that she didn't bother trying to cover.

"Dress shopping. Alright." Another grunt followed, before she leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "I feel like I didn't even sleep at all. Even more tired than I was when I fell asleep." The words were murmured softly, slightly muffled by his shoulder.

"Me either," he said, holding her close to him with his own grunt. Liam couldn't agree more. He was still completely out of it. Even if he stayed awake, right this moment, it would still take him an hour or so to wake up.

"How about this" The car won't be here for another two hours. Let's set the snooze alarm for another hour, hour and a half. We got till eleven. We'll wake up then and get ready. I mean, afterall, I think we've earned our sleep."

"Besides, looks like yer gonna meet some important people today." Liam gave her a gentle, tired smile.

When he held her closer, she pressed a kiss absently to his collar bone, and nodded. And when he spoke of setting an alarm, and how their ride wouldn't be there for a couple more hours, there was a pleased look that crossed her face.

"All of that sound really perfect." Apparently, even meeting important people. Or perhaps at this exact moment, she was too tired to care.

Perhaps there was a little more rest than rumored for the Wicked.

(The Story continues in The Bocca Felice Meeting)