2013.06.12 - The After-Party

Justin got the call about thirty minutes ago. It was hard to make sense of, what with all the screaming in the background. Something about "trouble at the warehouse". No, not the R&D facility, the one you showed the shareholders and the media and the helpful government inspectors. The OTHER warehouse. When Justin, Heather and staff arrive, drawn from whatever gala, ball and/or hoedown that was occupying the evening, the warehouse doors are open and smoke is drifting out from inside. The flickering light would seem to indicate that something in there is on fire...and there's a body laying ominously in the center of that large opening, a pool of blood crimson and wet around it. A security guard, with what appears to be the muzzle of his assault rifle impaled through his body, pinning him to the ground like a moth for collection.
The night had been going quite well until the phone rang. At first Justin started to ignore the call, but when the caller had become persistent and had called back he answered. And that's when the pleasant night, with his new security detail (who is FAR easier on the eyes than the bruisers he had been toting around with him) on his arm, had come to a crashing end. The black stretched, Lincoln Towncar pulls up in front of the 'abandoned' Queen facility, which was used primarily for storage, and stops. Before he even exits the vehicle, Hammer can tell things are very, very wrong. He glances toward the woman seated next to him in the limo, then back out the window. "What the hell is going on here?"
A part of her contract with Hammer Industries for tonight was that damage to the wardrobe would be covered by Hammer, not by Heather's agency. This is an important factor, because well.. Heather tends to be rough on her clothing when on the job. She is in her expensive evening gown which... well, is bound to cause a bit of trouble to Hammer's pocketbook... that is, if it wasn't an ultra deep book itself.
Anyhow, from the moment Justin decided to investigate this, Heather was advising against it. Arguements like, "Don't you have personnel for this?" or, "You are the CEO. You really should not expose yourself to risks like this...." but they were all for naught, and Heather ended up kinda almost sulking. "I kinda wish I had a change of clothes handy.." she mutters as she folds her arms over her abdomen and leans back in the seat as the car approaches the warehouse, "At least stay in the car for a minute when we get there. No sense in -you- charging in like the cavalry." she offers.
Omega Red is backlit at first, the flames from a half-incinerated box flickering across his marble-white skin, his massive frame casting shadows before him. He has a cigar clenched in his teeth, stolen from the office of the manager, the lit thing leaving a trail of smoke behind him, the ember blazing as he clutches it in his teeth. His right arm hefts what appears to be a grenade launcher, complete with cylinder, the weapon chucked back against a broad shoulder. The other arm swings by his side, except for the eighteen feet of gleaming, metallic tentacle that exends from the opening in his wrist, the lashing, serpentine thing wrapped around a slightly chubby member of the security staff, the plump guard sweating profusely as he's clearly being squeezed like an overcooked sausage in the monster's inhuman grip, "Ah, is good. You see, fat comrade, I told you. Boss man, he come. He care about your scream. It is the capitalist promise, to care for pathetic squeals of useless worker. You see, I am already learning American way." he says, blowing thick plumes of smoke through his nostrils like a cartoon bull. He lowers the launcher, aiming it casually at the limousine, "Is time to be coming out! Shopping cart is full, I am needing to be paying now!"
The CEO looks back to his drop-dead-gorgeous security guard and gives her a bit of a scowl. "Trust me, I'm not completely stupid," he says to her in a mildly defensive tone. Yes, he completely ignored her warnings about showing up, but this was something big. The facility may no long be used for R&D, but there's still a lot of very sensitive materials being housed there. Stuff that Hammer doesn't want to end up out on the black market without his approval. He starts to say something else when Jack, Justin's driver and occasional PA, lets out a holler. "Boss, some maniac in there has a grenade launcher!" the driver yells, drawing Justin's attention immediately. A glance out the window again and Hammer's eyes go wide. "Oh, shit..."
Giving Justin a -very- old fashioned look.. the sort that Nannies have given rambunctuous (sp?) children for time immemorial.. Heather shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak. As the call of the grenade launcher peals, she doesn't hesitate. She simply kicks the door best suited to being -away- from the weapon's impact zone, and grabs Justin to bodily throw him out the door which is now... well, mangled is an understatement. She's stronger than she looks. "Get out!" she yells to the driver... The grenade or rocket or whatever, is already incoming... and the driver bails out while diving to the ground. The time she took getting Justin out and making sure the driver got out... didn't leave -her- any time, and the explosion is bright (and painful!)
	
The car erupts in flame and debris, and Heather has had better days for sure. She isn't thrown from what -was- a limo... she crawls out of the door afterwards, and ends up rolling around to put out the flames that are consuming her outfit and her flesh... even as that flesh is healing the damage.
In the distance, the roaring of a motorcycle can be heard, and a laughing... laughter than should not... cannot come from any human throat. Eerie and inhumanly loud, it echoes amongst the buildings, seeming to come from everywhere. The Rider is coming.
Omega Red drops the launcher back onto his shoulder, watching with obvious amusement as the woman rolls around on the ground, slowly meandering around the side o the car as she gets the flames put out. His shadow falls across Justin while she's in the process of recovery and there's a loud *THUMP* as the guard lands on the ground. He doesn't seem to have held up well, though, his expression grey, his once-swollen flesh now withered, leaving him prune-like and empty, his eyes dry and glazed over, every bit of vitality sucked from his bones. "Tsk tsk, capitalist boss man. How you get so rich with such bad service to customer? I am wanting to buy so much of your boom-boom and you don't even get out of car to say hello? Is very rude. Still, am sure we can come to an arrangement," he says. His eyes flick up to Heather, watching her heal and he sneers, "Your whore is on fire. Lucky, it seem she is mutant whore. How fortunate." At the laughter, Red cocks his head, the tobacco of the cigar crunching in his mouth as he bites off the tip, spitting it, "My, my, is wonderland of strangeness in America. Am glad I am not only one who sees funny joke," he says, casually stomping the head of the drained guard and causing it to explode like an overripe melon, coating his boot with gore and brain.
The CEO is already pretty well stunned by the turn of events, so there's absolutely no resistance when Heather grabs him and puts him out of the car like he was a rag doll. He hits the pavement with a thud and rolls away from the car, losing his glasses in the process. The grenade hits the limo just as Hammer skids to a stop, and luckily he has his head down and eyes averted from the resulting flash. The boom, however, leaves his ears ringing and the night temporarily quieter than it should be. But not quiet enough to miss the dropped body of the black-uniformed guard who had been stationed at the facility. 
Justin jerks his head up, then slowly pulls himself to a sitting position, facing the huge mutant. The ringing is still in his ears, but the words are more than clear enough to understand. "I-I, uh, didn't know you were coming," he stammers, his voice high and nervous, "O-or I would have made other arrangements." The comment about Heather makes him glance toward the woman, but all he really sees is a fuzzy silhouette without his glasses. The mutant comment flies past him right now, as the CEO finds himself far too distracted by the blatant act of stepping on the dead guard's head. Justin has to try hard to keep from being sick, and is silently thankful he's lost his glasses after all.
Flailing about on the concrete, Heather actually manages to get most of the flames on her -flesh- out, and when it's done, she's wearing basically, one of those outfits that is strategic, but aside from that.. non-existant. Lying there, as the blood stops rushing through her ears and lets her start -hearing- what's going on.. she hears the laugh, and then Omega Red's voice as he speaks in his Russian accent. "Hey Ivan!" she calls out as she reaches up and takes hold of the limo's mangled door like she's trying to heave herself to her feet. "Catch!" she adds as she simultaneously rips the door -off- the limo and throws it as hard as she can at the red-clad villain.
Omega might be laughing now, but give it a minute... he won't be.
Yellow flames illuminate the walls of the nearby warehouses and the roaring sound gets louder. From between two of the farthest warhouses, the motorcycle shoots into sight, tires ablaze and trailing fire, with a leather clad skeleton seated on it, skull ablaze much like the tires. It's the skeleton that laughing like that.
Omega Red had been focused on Hammer, looking down at the CEO, enjoying the disgust on the rich man's face as he witnessed his guard's head splattering like that. "Is done now. But am sure we can come to a-" *CLANG* THe car door, flung a little sideways, frisbee-like impacted with his face and knocks his head back. The sound of the impact is metallic, reverbrating, and there's a rip in the cheek of the monster, flesh torn by the impact of the door, his crimson eyes gleaming as he finds his gaze meeting with Heather's. The skeleton might have garnered attention, of course, being a flaming skeleton and all, but Heather has actually hit him, a state of affairs with Omega finds both intolerable and delightful at the same time. As he stares at her, the rip in his cheek begins to heal, stitching itsel together, leaving the stain of his blood on his cheek, "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm...a whore with spirit! I like it! And the name is not Ivan...,it is Omega Red!" he says, and he raises an arm, lashing out with a massive tentacle in Heather's direction, flailing the appendage like a whip.
Omega has, indeed, dodged a bullet, for the Rider laughs not for him, but for another killer, a strangler of women, a mere few blocks away. RIder had been on his trail for a few weeks and will leave the pathetic rapist insane and ruined tonight. If that familiar scent had not been in the Rider's (nonexistent) nose, he would surely have sensed the Russian monster...another night, it seems...
Hammer is spared having to further attempt to talk to the freaky white mutant by Heather's quick thinking. Wait, did his supermodel body guard just throw a car door at the tentacle-waving psychopath? With Omega distracted, Justin starts scooting backwards on the pavement, away from the conflict at hand. Sure, he has his gun on him as he typically does, but that isn't going to help this situation. Like he told Heather, he's not stupid, and shooting at the red-clad monster is probably just going to get him dead faster. In his scramble to move backwards, he happens across his glasses. He picks them up and puts them on, finding them lightly scratched but otherwise intact.
Eyes widening as Omega heals too, Heather inclines her head. "That's interesting..." she remarks before the attack comes in. "Hey now!" she adds, "No tentacles!" she calls out as she reaches a hand up to snag the tentacle out of the air leaving about three feet beyond her grip. She looks towards Justin, her eyes flickering at him, and then at the buildings in the distance. "Not even on the third..." she continues as her eyes flicker back to Omega Red and she's interrupted as the tentacle she grabbed curls about and gets a good grip of her arm and shoulder, "Erk!" she adds as opposed to the snappy word she planned on using... you know.. date. Third date... "Great, I'm being attacked by the superhealing hentai beast." she mutters.
Touching the tentacle itself is horrifying in a number of ways. For one, it's metallic in feel, but still somehow supple, flexible and almost...moist, with that strange, sickly warmth that shows it to be a living thing. In addition, the tentacles are a focus for the Death Spore, Omega Red's life-draining pheremone, and that contact synchs him into Heather's super-vital metabolism, setting up a feeding loop that makes his lips spread wide in a wicked smile. He tilts his head down at Hammer, his head cocked at an eerie angle as he keeps that smile on his face, "Mmmmmmmmmmmm, so very tasty is this one. Can see why you are keeping with her, Hammer Boss Man," he says. "This is also part of American way, yes? To have big car and big money and girl with big bouncing American breasts, all made in U.S.A.. But good American has big gun, yes? Is even in your Constitution. Big gun for everyone. So, is simple. I am taking my big gun, so I can be a good American, Mr. Boss Hammer. If you have problem with this, I snap your whore and see if she can heal broken neck, da?"
For the love of baby Jebus with a shotgun, what is it with insane freaks doing crazy crap to try and get Hammer to give them weapons? For Pete's sake, if they would act like rational individuals he's likely to just sell them the stuff! Justin stops when Red's attention is back on him, getting his first good look at the mutant. "You want guns?" he asks, feeling more than a little dejavu, "F-fine. We can talk about guns. Just... Let's just be rational, shall we? Let's leave Heather out of this, and talk some business. Sound good?" While he talks Hammer slowly pulls himself to his feet, holding his hands out once he stands to show he's unarmed and willing to talk.
"I don't think he's feeling very rational.." mutters Heather. She leans back.. and yeah, she's strong as she gives some sort of resistance to Omega Red's own strength. She reaches back and grips the frame of the car, the hot and burning car which burns her hand. She endures the pain... thrives on it as she almost grins... though that pain is nothing compared to having her life essence drained.
Suddenly, she heaves with a grunt. This time that's all the vocalization she does... the limo is off the ground and aimed to come down on Omega Red's head over there. Afterwards, she mutters, "Heads up Ivan..." Yes, she's trying to force him to pay attention to her, and not her charge. "Mister Hammer.... run... please." she mutters as she starts moving forward towards Omega, staggering due to the drain and pressure of the tentacle.
Omega Red turns from Hammer back to Heather just in time to take a limo across the side of the head, the corner of the fender pounding into his jaw, cracking his head back. A spray of blood shoots up into the air from his split lip, the arc of crimson a perfect backdrop for the large, ivory tooth she knocked out of his head, sending it spinning up into the air. His tentacles loses some tension at the impact, the big man stunned and staggered as the car cracks against his head, stumbling until he drops down to one knee. He opens his eyes, already blood-filled, the massive bruise along the left side of his face slowly beginning to reseal itself, "Ungh, concussion. I have not had concussion in almost seventy years. Is exhilirating feeling. Mouth tastes of metal and blood. Ah, but it is good to be alive. Mr. Hammer, you will be thanking your wench for reminding me joys of life. Be quick, before I snuff hers like match," he says, and he raises his arms with a maniacal laugh, a massive gap in the front of his teeth as he opens wide and extends his arms, his tentacles lashing in a criss-cross, helix pattern to try and batter Heather into submission.
Run. Running is what Justin would really, really like to be doing. Running is what his instinct tells him to do. He's not a fighter, and the gun he has on him? Useless right now. Running isn't an option he had during the hostage crisis that he wished he would have had. But there's still a lot of stuff in that facility that he doesn't want the mutant getting a hold of. Looks like the monster found the conventional weapons, but with any luck the experimental stuff is still hidden away in the other building, untouched. So he can't run, no while there's still that risk. Then Heather /throws a freaking car/ at the mutant's head. It's almost too much for Hammer to handle. "Wait, WAIT!" he screams, at both Heather and Omega. She's just going to piss of the crazy Russian freak more if she keeps that up, when this may have already been solved by simply trading some low-end rocket launchers. "You want weapons? FINE! Let's talk about this..."
The moment the coils are loosened, Heather is moving faster. One of the things she has going for her, is basically neverending stamina... that and sheer stubbornness. Pain is a welcome friend to her as well. It's not just something that implies she is hurt, but it is about the only -normal- thing left in her life. Being injured -should- hurt, even if the pain is brief. She's surging into motion, the energy drain causing an almost tunnel vision of her senses to focus on Omega Red. She is assuming that Justin is fleeing the immediate scene, either to summon assistance, or to find another of those godawful weapons with which he might assist her himself. The last thing she expects him to do is stop and just... yell. She is about to launch into a high speed attack flurry when the yell strikes hear ears, and she turns her head in disbelief, just before the metal coils lash out and start to batter her. The first one strikes her across the shoulder, breaking the collarbone.. the bone starting to knit already. She lifts an arm to block the next one, trying to push it away in an offensive defense, but she was caught off guard, and goes to one knee, still resisting, but no longer moving forward. . o o O O (Stupid rich guy!) she thinks.
Omega Red gives a hiss of satisfaction as he hears one of Heather's bones break, even as he can feel her life force surging, knitting her back together again, the flood of her energy into him causing the horrifying sight of his tooth literally re-growing in his mouth, a nerve-stalk threading into the gap like a spiderweb, calcifying, reforming. His face is healed, but blood-smeared, half of his visage coated in gore, smoke roiling from the burning chassis as the car lays on its side next to him. Slowly cocking his head at Hammer, he puts Heather on the back burner, stiffening the coils to prevent further forward motion, but not outright assaulting her, creating an impasse, "Then talk, little man. But speak quickly, for I will have a hard time hearing over her screams, and they will be starting oh so very soon if you do not entice me very well..."
No one ever accused Justin of having common sense, so it's really of no surprise that he didn't run, or at least run for a bigger gun. In his mind if he ran he would only end up dead, never reaching the buildings, help or anything else. When Omega stops his assault and things seem to have stopped for a brief moment, Hammer launches into his bargain. "You like that grenade launcher? It's an HM-71, one of the best models out there. I've got more, and rounds for it. Also got some nice, heavy caliber HM-87 fifty-cals with recoil suppressors. Not that I'm sure recoil is much of an issue for someone like yourself." He offers a very nervous smile that matches his cracking tone of voice.
(You want screams then. You're about to be disappointed....) O O o o . . thinks Heather as she grits her teeth. The grinding bones in her shoulder as it heals... well, they hurt like hell. She reaches up, curls a hand about one of the coils as Omega looks over towards Justin. "Justin... I said... get.. out of here." she mutters before she slides one foot forward to find purchase, and then she stands, heaving all in one motion. She goes so far as to dig her foot into the concrete of the lot, breaking a bone or two in said foot. They're small bones, and will knit super fast. Anyhow, her plan is to try to pull Omega Red off of -his- feet with the heave, and hand-over-hand, she tries to reel in some of the coils to get closer to him before heaving once more.
Omega Red shakes his head to Justin, "Is not in needing of flattery, Hammer. Negotiation is simple. I will take a few things, like the launcher and maybe a few rockets...and there is one more thing I will be --" he says, only to find himself interrupted, Heather's planted, leveraged form enabling her to use her superior strength to yank him towards her, again dragging him to one knee, his white-blonde hair, soaked with blood, falling across his face, his boot smeared with the brains of the guard still. He gazes up through the parting fall of his hair, his crimson eyes luminscent in the shadow, "Mmmmmmmmmmm, your whore, Hammer, she interrupts our business in her hunger for my embrace. Do you love death so much, then, woman, to crave my touch? Death and I are old, old friends...I would be happy to introduce you..." he shivers and, instead of pulling back, he dives forward, attempting to spear his shoulder into Heather's belly and drive her into the ground.
What the hell is wrong with that crazy bitch? Every time Justin just about has this handled, she goes and does something /else/ to piss off the mutant. Those thoughts about hiring her was money well spent? Maybe not so much now. Granted, had she not been there, he may already be dead. "Heather, for the love of god!" he shouts in a frantic tone, watching as Omega charges the smaller female special. "Grenade launchers, rocket launchers, you got it! Just- Just knock this shit off!" The CEO is caught between enraged and panicked, fueled by adrenaline and not thinking anything he says through.
"You can't sell this whackjob -more- weapons. Do you have any idea how many people he'll kill with them?!" screams Heather. "Seriously! Use your brain here!" she yells towards Justin. And then the flying russian choo choo comes through. What does Heather do?... she stands on the tracks. She flexes her legs, digs her -rear- foot in for grip and lunges towards Omega Red's hurtling body. Their shoulders slam into one another, and her leg comes up to drive a knee into the guy's face. Of course, he's not the only one suffering a followup attack, as Omega's left fist balls up and swings upwards from near the ground, striking Heather in the chin and whipping her head back. Her jaw breaks... and both of them have dislocated right shoulders... the both of them toppling back away from one another, stunned... hoping to recover before the other so they can gain advantage over their enemies.
Omega Red continues laughing through it all, his shoulder cracking as he throws himself to the ground, driving the bone back into position, flexing his knuckles from where he cracked Heather in the face. The flow of blood from his nose slows quickly as he literally begins to point at her and laugh, "You...you stupid...bitch...do you think...he gives...a fuck...about who I kill? Do you think he is selling the rocket launchers to nuns? He is arms dealer! Helping killers...is his business. I am...just another...client," he smirks, wiping the blood from his mouth, "I am just deciding to shop in more...entertaining fashion than some." he sneers at Heather, "If you are having problem with morals, you are in wrong business with wrong businessman, shlyukha."
Hammer takes a couple steps back from the impact, blinking in disbelief at what he just witnessed. He's seen news footage of fights between specials, seen the after effects, but this is the first time he's ever seen it in person. And there isn't anything that really prepares you for it. Looking between Heather and Omega, he takes in what's being said. Omega's right, though hearing it phrased like that, from someone like him, makes Justin's stomach sink. "H-Heather, don't worry about it," he says, words unsteady. "It's... It's just business. So let's just talk this out, and get this gentleman on his way."
Shaking her head, Heather turns and attempts to relocate her shoulder by slamming it into Omega Red's stomach and chest area. She knows about the business world, and about some of the seedy underbelly stuff of the world. She hasn't run in those circles much... she doesn't wear a bat costume. But she does at least understand the principle... and her charge right now... his safety and security -are- her primary concern. "Do your damned business then." she remarks as she slowly levers herself to her feet. "As long as nobody else is harmed... you will make your purchases and go on your way. If I ever see you again, I will give you a coil enema... but for now... just do your damned business." She looks to Justin then and adds, "I'm not leaving until this is over, but don't worry... a confidentiality agreement is a part of the standard security contract Mister Hammer."
Omega Red smirks as Heather chucks her shoulder against him, sitting back and draping his arms over his knees as he watches the battered but healing bodyguard walk back over to her employer. The smile never leaves his face, of course, even as his own injuries continue to heal, "Stubborn," he laughs, pushing himself slowly up back to his feet. His tentacles begin to withdraw back into his arms with a weird mixture of sounds, organic and metallic at the same time, like sword being sheathed into a scabbard full of jelly. "I will take few things, but only what can be carried. Is fair that you be paid, after all, here in capitalist America, and I am not having much in way of funds...yet. That is other request," he says, walking over and picking up the grenade launcher again, looking back over his shoulder at Justin and Heather, "The people you are selling to, they are the people that are needing weapons. Well, I am weapon. So sell me. I am good at work, at spilling blood, at breaking bones, at taking lives. Accounting...eh, not so much. You are finding me work, you are taking, what they call...percentage, yes?"
FINALLY, a bit of reason! Justin lets out a deep breath when Heather finally relents, but winces and tenses up again when she resets her shoulder on Omega. When things don't explode again, he looks between the two. "Well, good. Now that we all have that our of our systems..." He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and watches Omega. The request causes Hammer to pause, a somewhat confused look on his face. The confusion quickly melts into a grin as he thinks this over. It could be an exceptionally beneficial relationship. He starts walking toward the ruined building, following after Omega. "I-I think we could work something out," he says, stepping around some debris.
Well, that offer between the two of them is something Heather wishes she had never heard. She shakes her head. She won't use anything she learns here against Mister Hammer... however, if evidence linking the two of them in the future is found, she certainly won't lie on the man's behalf. She walks up to Justin and holds out a hand, "May I borrow your coat?" she asks through gritted teeth. Yep, her skin is whole and unmarred... and there's so very much of it. In fact, by now, the scarp of the top part of her dress is being held up by her left arm as she holds the right hand out Justin's way, one brow raising.
Omega Red follows Hammer through some of the rubble, picking up a weapon here and a weapon there, a canvas rifle bag quickly getting stuffed with a few (totally conventional) goodies. Red isn't particularly interested in the experimental anyway; he's almost 100 years old, he's having enough trouble with his iPhone. "Ten percent is, I am believing, the traditional amount. Just be swift in finding me work. I am...what is the American word...such a stupid language, so ugly and crude...ah, yes...I am a workaholic," he says, although the 'w' sounded suspiciously like a 'v'. "If I am being left without work to do, I am getting very bored. And, while killing people is job, is also entertainment. Many, many more people will be dying if I am bored. So please, be finding me work."
Heather's request draws a bit of a harsh look from Hammer, though he does stop to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket and hand it to the woman. Some gentleman he is. That leaves him in just a white dress shirt and the gaudy gold vest and tie he had been wearing to the charity event. Once he's walking again, he looks back toward the large mutant, noting what all he's picking up. "I think ten percent is fair," he says, his voice slightly more even now. "And I'll see about getting you something lined up as quickly as possible. With all the chaos in the world, there's always something happening, ya know?" In reality, Justin has no idea who he's going to send the mutant toward. He's not a mercenary, he just sells the weapons, usually to the U.S. government. And he's fairly certain that they won't be hiring Omega any time soon. What the hell has he gotten himself into?
Slipping the coat on carefully, to avoid even more wardrobe malfunction than usual, Heather pulls it shut and buttons it before letting that scrap of dress fall out the bottom of the coat. "Thanks." she mutters before she simply steps back behind Justin, back on duty. "By the way sir. You should realize that the whole... situation here is likely to draw a response from -some- sort of law enforcement... soon."
Omega Red grabs a good, old-fashiond AK-47 (which seems pretty state of the art to him) and heft it over his shoulder. He also reaches down and takes the rest of the cigars out of the pocket of a guard who seems, sadly, to be missing his head, the bloody stump of his neck jutting a pathetic couple of vertebrae out the top, like the drooping tail of a depressed dog. He takes the man's lighter, reading the inscription, "Happy birthday, Nicky," he chortles, pocketing the lighter, too as he blows smoke through his nostrils, "I will be in touch soon. This time I will be calling ahead, yes?" he says, slapping Justin on the shoulder as if they're old buddies now, walking back towards the wide doors of the warehouse. "The bitch is right. Soon, the police will be coming. You should be figuring out what to be telling them. Terrorism, I am thinking. Americans wet panties thinking of terrorism. And is fair to say that I definitely...spread share of terror," he chuckles, "I would stay and help, but I think your lady friend, she would not be helping me to twist off policeman's heads if they not believe you. So I make lie easier and be going," he says. He takes one more long puff on his cigar and added, "I enjoyed our little dance, dovotschka. Another time, maybe, we will be finishing, da?"
Again the CEO gives the woman a look, but she's right. He breaks eye contact with her and quickly looks out over the now battered facility. There's a couple guards, plus his driver Jack, who are now moving around trying to assess the damage and the casualties. When Omega loots the guard who lost his head, Justin has to turn away. /What have you gotten yourself into?/ When spoken to, he looks back toward the mutant. He makes a nervous chuckle, then jolts forward when the mutant slaps him on the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, calling ahead, that's a good idea," he says, straightening back up. "Just, if I might make a suggestion, can you please be a little easier on my employees and facility? It's expensive to replace staff like this." He looks toward where Jack is, and calls over to the man, waving a hand for him to join them. He'll brief the man on getting everyone's story straight, for when the authorities do arrive.
Well, at least Jack lived. Heather says, "If that'll be all... I'll hold onto the jacket rather than charge you for the gown. Now... if you don't mind, I think I'll be going to so that I don't mess up your coverup by doing anything so stupid as actually relling the authorities the truth." That said, she starts walking away.
Omega Red shakes his head and points a finger back at Justin, "As she makes clear, Hammer, some people, they just beg to be killed. But, as you say, I will be...more careful with your employees in future. As sign of good faith. If I be saying, might be good idea to make sure future employees not bleeding heart whiny cry babies like her, da? She is tough, but not worth for the squalling and the moralizing. She sound like my mother. Before I killed her, that is," he smiles wickedly. "Das vidanya. Being in touch, I will be," he says and, with a trail of cigar smoke behind him, he leaps into the air a tentacle lashing out and embedding in the top of a nearby building, the invulnerable coil pulling its master up in its wake like some sort of demonic, albino spider...
Looking back over her shoulder, Heather doesn't say a word. But.. her eyes narrow a bit. . o o O O (I suppose it could be worse. I could be a Russian Psychopathic Hentai **cktard...) she thinks before giving Omega Red a million dollar smile when he looks her way.
Justin turns quickly toward Heather. He frowns lightly. That jacket's expensive, but probably a fair trade for the dress the woman had been wearing. He did, after all, sign an agreement saying he would pay for damages to her wardrobe. "You sure you don't want to wait, get a ride out of here?" he offers, the first gentlemanly thing he's done since this went down. To Omega's words he just nods, then watches the mutant make his escape. Jack arrives by his side, and waits to be issued whatever orders his boss has for him.
Category:Log