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Post by marcus cornett on Dec 29, 2012 1:59:06 GMT -5
| [atrb=width, 50%][atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=width, 400px, btable][atrb=align, center, btable][atrb=style, background: #36393b; padding: 60px 20px 0 20px; border-bottom: 10px solid #45484b;] | [atrb=style, background: #f6f6f6; border-bottom: 10px white solid;][classy=posting]It had been a long time since Umbra had a place to call home. The wicked duo had roamed from city to city, country to country, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. The bounty on their heads grew larger and larger by the day. The large sum of money that their heads were worth made it rather hard to stay under the radar.
It was only by chance that Umbra stumbled upon Team Rocket. The group was nothing more then a tiny gang, but they had something that Marcus craved, a safe place to sleep. Team Rocket may have been crushed and disbanded numerous times in the past, yet they had an uncanny ability to avoid arrest and remain undetected for years at a time. Marcus wanted to make use of this ability to protect himself and Martha.
But the protection of the Rockets came at a price, Umbra had to join these little cockroaches.
It was disgusting, revolting, to lower himself so much to work with these people. No, he was a Grunt. Umbra was beneath the Rockets as long as they stayed with them.
Marcus clenched his teeth, grinding those pearly whites together in aggravation. If one of those spoiled little admins thought they could make Marcus their little bitch then they had another thing coming. Most likely a knife to the throat. It always made the killer feel better when he took the time out of his day to personally murder someone that wronged him.
"Martha," Marcus began, it was the first time he had spoken in a while. "How long do you think we should stay with these-" Pausing, he searched for the right word. "People." The last word came with such malice and hate it was a surprise that Marcus even entertained the idea of joining Rocket.
He kept walking as he spoke. Marcus had no desire to waste time in this part of town. As run down and deserted as the outskirts of Sleepless was, you still found the occasional tryhard cop on patrol. It was easier to avoid these obvious men completely. They had a nasty habit of trying to take you in, and murdering cops just drew even more attention to yourself.
Alert eyes snaked from building to building. It was mainly run down apartment buildings, occupied by the undeserables of Sleepless. Just like their inhabitants the buildings were dirty and broken. Dirt cacked the crack steps leading into the apartments, and many windows were shattered or cracked. Blankets were used in the place of curtains in a few buildings.
"I hope the they have a better living quarters then this place." Marcus muttered, he would slit someone's throat if he was forced to live in one of these buildings. He was far to used to the penthouses and hotel rooms of his victims. They were lovely places, filled with all the creature comforts you could desire. Sure they could only stay there for a few days at the most, but if you stole enough you could pawn off the loot to nab a nice hotel somewhere far off.
But now Umbra was at the mercy of Team Rocket.
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Post by amelia laure on Dec 29, 2012 2:47:35 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 387px,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][STYLE=border: 5px solid #3A2C2F; width: 100; height: 100;][atrb=valign,top] [/style] | [atrb=valign,top][STYLE=background-color: #3A2C2F; font-family: courier new; color: #F1ECDC; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 6px;]A NIGHTMARE COMES TO LIFE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFF8F2; font-size: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; color: #3A2C2F;]They were atrociously behind schedule.
In fact, it hadn’t just started today. They had been off for a while now, and Amelia was trying her level best not to start tearing out strips of her freshly cut and dyed jet black hair. It had been this colour for 12 days, 7 hours, and 26 minutes… come to think of it; she couldn’t even remember her old hair colour. Oh well. Change came with the territory. Too bad that it was so constant now that it screwed with her schedule, because as of this very moment, they were 48 hours off schedule – 12 more hours than she had allotted for any and all mishaps. This most recent mishap, this case of not having a home, it was affecting Markie too.
Yes, they had fallen in with the Rockets and were using their base as a place to stay.
However, she did not consider the Rocket HQ a proper home.
It did not have the facilities they needed, and the privacy that Amelia craved. It had no sophistication, no class. It was a hovel (at best) filled with disgusting putrid little creatures that thought themselves grand. She did not want to subject herself to their whims and knew that her partner didn’t either. Umbra were disgusted with this… group, but respected and needed their ability to evade custody. There was too much heat on the little group as of now – whether it was due to an unplanned misstep by either her or Marcus or the police actually wising up to a signature or two purposely left behind.
Silently, Amelia revised her schedule in her head, adding generous amounts of hours to certain areas – like how long before they found a proper home, a decent amount of money and new… spoils. She sighed as she mentally drew a line through her little activities that brought her some pleasure. They didn’t have the funds to go see ballets and the opera anymore. Damn. It would be a while, but by tomorrow, they’d be back on track. Markie grinding his teeth caught her attention and immediately, her ears perked and she cocked her head in his direction.
“Ideally, nothing more than a few days.” She paused, flicking at a piece of imaginary lint as she walked beside him. “Realistically… several months. I’ve already made the adjustments to my schedule.” Her tone was so light and airy, any passerby would think that she had only suffered a minor inconvenience – save for the furiously pulsing vein near her left temple. “This place is shit. So are the people.” Amelia continued. “Must we follow their orders? They have no finesse. How it is that they haven’t been permanently disbanded is beyond me.” She fell into silence as she surveyed the buildings around her and her heart screamed out for their last home, a gorgeous penthouse with a view of the ocean.
“Markie…” her voice had dropped to a whisper as it often did when her blood was brought to a boil. “We have to live in one of these....” Her green eyes were riveted to a nearby… well, the word building would be the polite thing to say. “I’m quite certain Admins don’t have to live in these shitholes. But we're Grunts.” Her hands were clamped tight over her nose – the ‘keen’ sense of smell she had was being more than a minor inconvenience today. And right now, what she smelled was something akin to month old piss. Who the fuck were the Rockets taking them for?
Once again, Amelia made adjustments to her schedule.
Castrating the pissant in charge of the Grunt’s housing was added to it – with a generous time slot of an hour and a half. She supposed she could indulge.
Turning to face her partner, Amelia managed a wan smile.
“Ok… more like a year. On the plus side… we can indulge in a little stress relief… kill a hobo or two? The heat isn’t as bad here.”
She reluctantly let her hands leave her nose to search her pockets and after a moment produced a gleaming silver straight razor – her favourite one at that and held it out to Marcus.
“We have three hours to spare, according to my calculations.”
The schedule could be revised a little more later.
Both her and Mikie could use a little break.
She would make a concession - just this once.
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Post by marcus cornett on Dec 31, 2012 1:20:43 GMT -5
| [atrb=width, 50%][atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=width, 400px, btable][atrb=align, center, btable][atrb=style, background: #36393b; padding: 60px 20px 0 20px; border-bottom: 10px solid #45484b;] | [atrb=style, background: #f6f6f6; border-bottom: 10px white solid;][classy=posting]"Oh what fun." Marcus sarcastically muttered. Even the thought of staying with Team Rocket even for a few months made the murderer's stomach churn in disgust. Never before had Umbra had to rely on others to survive, and now they were turning to the lowest criminals. Perhaps that is what bothers me most. Marcus pondered to himself, only paying half attention to Martha as she spoke. We actually have to depend on someone else to survive for once.
Since they had met it had just been the two of them. Together Umbra had fought through abysmal situations and emerged victorious. They had stared death in the face, spat back, and made her their little bitch. It was only together that they had risen above the rabble and were able to live the high life.
But now... Now they had to ally themselves with another group in order to survive, a group that they had always looked down upon.
Slowly Marcus brought himself back into the conversation. "Unfortunately we will have to tolerate them, and what they give us." He feigned an attempt at paying attention. Luckily for the Trainer he always had a sense of what the Gijnka was thinking. "We can't make them our enemies, so for now we should play by their rules." It would be dangerous to cross Team Rocket, they could easily throw the pair to the dogs.
He became silent as he took the razor from Martha. Cold yellow eyes looked at their reflection on the bright surface. "I'd rather not." Closing the razor, he placed it in the pocket of his leather jacket. "They are easy prey." Above all else Marcus was a hunter. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. Chasing someone down, and ending their life when they had no where else to run. It made him feel superior, that so few had escaped him.
And survivors only lived so long, and that lifetime could be cut dramatically short by a well placed knife... Or razor blade in this case.
Stopping, Marcus turned around to face his partner. "And how would you like to spend those hours darling?" He only used the word to describe Martha. "I highly doubt you would want to spend it in this shithole. After all, the local scent must be fan-fucking-tastic." Marcus wrinkled his nose. His sense may not be as good as Martha's, but you didn't have to have the senses of a Gijnka to detect the scent of filth that permeated the area.
He started walking again. He was intent on making it to the Rocket base soon. "Our new home might smell better then these streets, and even if it doesn't I had that kid fetch us an air freshener." Of course Marcus refered to the young Grunt that he cornered and threatened with a knife. The act of aggression "convinced" the terrified boy to fetch their few belongings and bring them to the Rocket Headquarters.
Of course Marcus threatened to let Martha use him as her play thing if even a single piece of luggage went missing.
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