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Ownership and Leadership
Topic Started: Aug 19 2015, 05:50 AM (263 Views)
Varian
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The British Prick
Atlas was sat in the passenger side of a black beat up car, it looked very much like something out of a movie. Atlas found himself in a suit for a start, something he was not comfortable wearing at all. It looked good on him in a strange sense, it was certainly not the kind of attire one would see him in all the time. The car was parked outside a dusty old warehouse on the edge of the city, they were far from Ascua territory but this was where the job had taken them.

There was only one time that Atlas ever wore a suit and that was when there was a high paying client involved, recently the Ascua had been doing jobs for various rich busy bodies. Seems like results got noticed and through it the Ascua was getting noticed, Atlas lit up a cigarette taking a deep drag from it. "You think this deal is really gonna go down?" He turned his head to his driver, the owner of the bar Ascua sat at the wheel. There was nobody else that Atlas knew who was capable with a job like this, there client had paid for them to interrupt a deal between one of his business rivals and a small time gang that was local to this area of Chicago.

Atlas was rapping his fingers against the dashboard leaning in various directions to get a different angle on the warehouse, as if that would somehow speed up the arrival of their targets. " Y'know, last week I read in some magazine while I was out on that Weapon Shipment Job. The one were that dumb piece of shit ended up hiding that gun up his ass and it went off? Apparently the Chicago Beavers might have been on steroids the last superbowl." Atlas never gave a shit about sports usually, it was clear that he was getting impatient.
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Sanjuro
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There was always a portion of every job that required patience. Whether it was planning the assault, casually trailing a target, or, as it was in this particular case, a stakeout. This was the portion of the job that he excelled in. Calmly assessing a situation and acting according to the information gathered. It was something he preferred to do over charging headlong into danger. So when it came to sitting in a beat up black sedan outside a warehouse that looked like it was on its last legs in a rundown part of good old Chicago, Nate was in his element, leaning back in his seat, his phone out and fingers tapping away at the keys while he texted someone about getting his hands on a case of vintage pinot noir at cost.

The olive skinned bar owner scrunched up his nose when his boss and long-time friend Atlas decided to light up one of his death sticks. Dark green eyes cut across from the phone screen for a moment, glaring at the cigarette, before he looked back at the screen. "Must you? At least crack the window if you are going to subject me to your disgusting habits." He shook his head and finished typing his text, sending it off and snapped the flip-phone shut, looking up over the wheel at the warehouse. "And there's no reason to suggest they won't. No one knows we were hired to interrupt this little soiree. As far as all parties are concerned, everything is on the up and up." Nate suddenly chuckled, his voice deep and smooth. "Well, as up and up as an illegal business meeting can be."

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He slipped it from the expensive jacket and flipped it open. "Tch." He frowned at the message on the glowing screen and started typing a rather nasty series of threats back. Like hell was he paying that much for wine, no matter how rare it was. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked away from his phone for the moment. A sleek black town car was rolling into the warehouse, the dust kicked up from the wheels and dirtying what looked like a brand new polish job. Nate smiled. "See? Sometimes a little patience pays off. If they're here, the other guys shouldn't be far behind."
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Varian
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The British Prick
Atlas wound down the window as his partner complained, flicking the cigarette as far as he could. Watching it bounce off the top of a garbage can, landing on the ground it smoked for a while before calming. Atlas shrugged and turned away to look at what his partner was doing, Nathaniel was texting about wine, something about an expensive bottle. It all tasted the same to Atlas, he started tugging at the collar of his shirt a sign that he was not used to wearing one. He grinned when Nate cracked a joke about the deal, some people would of found him grinning unnerving he looked like he was about to murder someone. "I think they prefer to call it business after hours, don't wanna look like criminals themselves see."

As the first car rolled up, Atlas let out a sigh of relief as a pair of well dressed suits scanned the area. Surprisingly neither of them paid attention to the black sedan, the two bodyguards opened the door a rather well dressed man in is late forties. "Man, that suit must be expensive. It almost seems a shame to ruin it, where is the other group?" As if on cue a rather bright coloured pick up rolled up alongside the businessman's car, out of it jumped out your stereotypical gangsters. One of them jumped out the passenger side, presumably the leader the way he began to bark orders at the guys sat in the trailer on the back. A rather flashy car rolled up next to it, clearly someone enjoyed racing in their spare time. A lot of body work and a whole lot of neon along with a loud engine, that was clearly the escort car as 4 more gangsters climbed out. Atlas noticed that the leader had a really nice watch on. "Dibs on the watch."

That made eight gangsters including the driver of the pick up and then the three suits who went inside, eleven versus two seemed like a fair fight. Atlas waited for them to unload several boxes from the pick up and head into the warehouse, Atlas got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. He popped the trunk taking out his sawn off shotgun, he snapped it open and rammed a pair of shells inside. Snapping it back up he pumped the shotgun, he waited for his partner to sort himself out before walking towards the front door. "Let's go." The serious face was on now, it was time to do the job and get paid.

Inside the deal was under way, surprise was an understatement as the door to the warehouse came flying off his hinges. Normally this would be the perfect moment to crack a one liner, that was not the case for Atlas. Instead his gun immediately snapped to the nearest face and unloaded both barrels into it, to say that the face was messed up would be yet another understatement. The first one to go was actually the driver of the pick up, Atlas threw himself behind a crate to the left of the door to reload as the bodyguards pulled out their handguns.

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Sanjuro
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"Ah, my mistake; business after hours. That sounds a little less illegal and a little more… well." He trailed off, leaving the comment open for suggestion though it was obvious where he was going with it. The young entrepreneur eyed the way Atlas tugged at his collar with a modicum of amusement. He knew the thuggish leader of Ascua hated wearing 'monkey-suits'. It was a pity really, but he supposed not everyone could have his taste in fashion. When the shorter of the duo commented on that the businessman, Nate leaned forward a little to get a better look. He sniffed. "Please. Expensive, sure, but lacks all sense of taste or style. A waste of money if you ask me. Wearing something so bland, it deserves to get ruined." His green eyes cut across from the first group to the second. He immediately started giving them all once overs, trying to gauge how much of a pain this was going to be. None of them seemed particularly strong. His eyes did rove over the suped up car sports car. "You can have the watch. I wonder how much that eyesore on wheels is worth."

Switching his phone from the texting screen to the camera, he started snapping pics of the cargo the gangsters were hauling from the back of the pickup, and zoomed in close on a couple of their faces, getting a good snap or two of most of them. He looked through the camera wheel, looking over the faces to see if he recognized any of them. None of them, not even their boss, looked familiar. Up and comers? He looked back up at the group and frowned. How in the hell did up and comers like this lot land a gig like the one they were about to break up? They must have some friends in high places, or else the job would have gone to a crew that Nate was more familiar with. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He would have liked a little more time to gather some more info, but-

Yup. The slamming of the passenger side door told him exactly what Atlas' opinion on waiting was. He slowly got out of the driver's seat and casually closed the door with a lot less force than Atlas had used on his. While the red-head was fishing his sawn-off out of the trunk, Nate sat against the hood of the car, finishing the message about exactly where his supplier could shove those wine bottles for that price and sent it off. When Atlas came back around, loaded shotgun in hand, Nate slipped his phone back into his breast pocket and casually leant away from the car, one hand in his pocket while the other was reaching into the inside of his jacket. Eclipse, his pistol, came loose in one smooth motion and he let his arm hang casually by his side, the gun pointed at the ground. "After you, boss."

He knew what Atlas was planning before the man even finished his action. Three, two, one… Smash! There went the door, flying off rusted hinges. "You know," Nate started as he followed the man inside, lifting his pistol and squeezing off two shots at a pair of the gangsters before they even had a chance to react, "You could have just opened the door. It wasn't locked." Two shots, one went straight through the one of the thug's chest, dropping him instantly. The other one managed to move just enough that the bullet tore through his shoulder instead of his chest.

Nate threw himself into a leap, aimed seemingly at the middle of nowhere, while firing off a few more shots from his handgun at the two suit wearing bodyguards. Before he crashed into the ground though, a buzzing sound filled the air like electricity and a green platform appeared underneath his feet, preventing him from falling and giving him a height advantage to rain down bullets and give Atlas a chance to reload.

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Edited by Sanjuro, Aug 19 2015, 07:50 AM.
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Varian
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The British Prick
Their targets were all taken aback when Nate seemed to float in the air, clearly they had never seen flames being used before. Atlas had finished loading his gun when one of the gangsters managed to slip past Nate, Atlas was not even phased as the man came running past the crates he was using as cover. He just held his arm out and close lined the guy, there was a yelp as the man was caught by Atlas' arm. The rest of his body kept moving forward, his head didn't follow and soon he was on his back on the ground groaning in pain.

Atlas put him out of his misery all to quickly with a single barrel to the face, firing off his second shot at the wounded gangster. It seemed like this guy had incredible luck, the wounded guy dived behind some cover and the shot missed completely. It was at this point that Atlas placed his shotgun inside his jacket, he held his arm outstretched towards the cover the gangster was hiding behind. In his hand a ball of glowing orange flame began to appear, some of the small time gangsters looked rather scared. Atlas could tell how small time they were at this point, they had no idea what was going on. Atlas was more than happy to demonstrate, he fired the large beam straight through the cover instantly incinerating the guy on the other side. It was so quick that the man would not have felt any pain, Atlas might have enjoyed fighting but he was not cruel not when he could help it. This kind of work didn't allow for a soft spot though, the only time he could be soft was around his family but even then he had to be a strong leader for their sake. Sometimes it was a lonely path of kings, he was glad of times like this when he could just spend time with a member of his family like an equal.

Atlas side stepped back into his cover as bullets rained in his direction after his display, Atlas grinned once again it seemed like these guys at least had some backbone. "Give 'em hell Nate." Atlas began laughing a deep hearty laugh, he was enjoying himself at this point. Today was a good day, he felt like stopping for lunch on their way back home after this job. Atlas took out his shotgun, loaded it up and fired off a few more shots.

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Edited by Varian, Aug 19 2015, 08:29 AM.
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Sanjuro
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His potshots were apparently enough to distract the group of thugs and guards long enough for Atlas to charge that blasted Wrath beam of his. Seriously, he had a sneaking suspicion that guy read way too many comics growing up. Next thing you knew he'd be shouting something like 'Hadouken!' or 'Kamehameha!' at the top of lungs. Still, he couldn't deny the effectiveness of the attack. When he realized the formally trained bodyguards were onto his strategy, well more along the lines of they started shooting at him and not at Atlas, Nate dropped from his platform in a backflip, creating another one before he touched the ground and then launched off of it, essentially dashing through the air above the battle by creating platform after platform under his feet.

With a clear line of sight at the bodyguards' rears, Nate took aim and squeezed off the last six rounds of his clip. A triple tap for each. He scowled when all shots nailed them in the back and the dropped to the ground in a heap but he could hear audible groans coming from them. Bastards were wearing Kevlar. A shot zipped past his ear and Nate dropped from his platform entirely, landing on the ground in a roll and coming to a halt behind an old car that was in pieces, little more than scrap metal at this point. He glanced down at the dust that had gathered on his jacket as a result of the action. "Son of a bitch… This jacket alone is worth more than your damn car!"

Slipping his second magazine from his jacket, he discarded the one in the pistol and reloaded, chambering a bullet. Instead of firing it however, he funnelled his Flames through his ring and to the tip of the gun. "Let's see how you like this…" Poking his head up, he let the 'flames' fly, a hardened beam of green lightning-like light soaring across the room. It pierced straight through the crate the bastard that had shot him off his platform was hiding behind and the sound of a scream echoed through the warehouse over the sounds of gunfire. A nasty smile appeared on Nate's face. "That's what happens when you fuck with another man's wardrobe."

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Varian
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The British Prick
Atlas lowered his shotgun once more, charging one of the bodyguards who was recovering from Nate's previous attack. Throwing a punch into the man's face sending him back to the ground, the other bodyguard had already recovered and returned the favour in kind. Atlas got hit square in the jaw by one hell of a right hook, he stumbled back a little. The grin was gone from his face he looked pissed, really pissed, the bodyguard looked hesitant and that was all Atlas needed. He brought his head back and gave the man a solid head butt aiming at the nose, blood and a cry of pain followed as the bodyguard hit the deck. The first bodyguard had gotten to his feet and raised his fists, Atlas raised his shotgun and shot the bodyguard.

Atlas spun around with his gun pointing right at the gangster ducking behind a crate, that was when he heard Nate complaining about his suit. Atlas lifted his shotgun's aim from the gangster, he nodded towards the gangster. "Sorry pal, should of made sure you hit him." Atlas' attention was drawn away from the gangster as he was killed, this time because one of the gangsters was running at him with a knife. Atlas coated his fist in flames and delivered a solid punch to the guy, burning a decent fist sized hole in his stomach. Atlas turned to Nate with a perplexed expression on his face, holding his arms out in a shrug. "What is it with these people? Don't they know how to have a good shootout?"

As if to answer him, the bodyguard he had head butted earlier was on his feet. BANG! A bullet went straight through Atlas' shoulder, he yelled out through shock. "FUCKING A!" Atlas threw himself on the opposite side of the crate that Nate had shot through, taking cover from the bodyguard who opened fire on him. "See! This guy knows how to do it." Atlas was grinning despite the pain in his left shoulder, he was glad it had gone clean through. He wouldn't need to go get the bullet removed, Atlas began laughing as he emptied his shotgun and reloaded. He peered at the corpse that Nate had left, he was dead for sure. Atlas saw a set of keys dangling out, he reached around the crate while being fired on. He dangled the set of keys in front of Nate. "Least you won't have to break into the car now."

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Edited by Varian, Aug 19 2015, 01:38 PM.
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Sanjuro
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Using Atlas being… well, Atlas, Nate slipped around the edges of the fire fight while everyone's attention was drawn to the psychopath laughing at the fact that he had just gotten shot. The gangsters, two of the five that remained at least, had retreated to their own little corner. Nate vaulted over a crate and landed behind them, flames already gathering on his leg. By the time they turned around, he was lashing out with a snap kick straight into the side of one of the thug's heads. While the kick didn't have that much force behind it, the sharpened flames of energy certainly did. The blood sprayed all over the barricade they were hiding behind and Nate's pant leg as well.

He didn't have time to worry about that at the moment though as he ducked low, dodging the baseball bat aimed at his head, and swung his leg around in a sweep kick that knocked the next thug off his feet. Before he even had a chance to roll or attempt any kind of dodge really, Nate was firing a single bullet straight into his skull. It was messy, blood and brain matter being sent everywhere and the action caused Nate to scowl a little. This was the part of the job he hated. The ruthless slaughter of anyone that could pose a threat to their family. It had to be done, and he knew if he didn't do it someone else would have to come in his place. Someone that lacked his skills and could likely die in the process. At least if he took on these sins someone else wouldn't have to.

Several shots pierced the crates; he assumed from the final three gangsters trying to avenge their fallen comrades. Forgetting his moral issues with what they were doing, Nate dove for cover and fired a few shots blindly in the direction of the people that were shooting at him. "Must you take all the fun out of life? Stealing a car is an artform and you take all the fun out of it by simply lifting the keys."

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Edited by Sanjuro, Aug 19 2015, 01:37 PM.
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Varian
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The British Prick
Atlas shrugged in response to Nate's rhetorical question. "That is because I don't know how to do that fancy car thing you do, if I want a car I have to break a window or lift the keys. Lifting the keys gets you more money from buyers usually." It was not entirely true, Atlas knew the method he was just not very good at it. His first arrest had been because he had triggered the alarm, for some reason everyone always acted surprised that was all it was for and not for beating a police officer up. That was his second arrest.

Something was bothering Atlas about this whole situation, these nobodies were way too prepared considering that this was supposed to be a surprise attack. He knew their client hadn't ratted them out, he had been a faithful customer of theirs for many years and knew better than to double cross them. There was not much time to dwell on this so Atlas yelled out. "Nate! Change of plan... Don't shoot the big boss suit, we are taking him home with us. Also I fancy something to eat, how does a burger sound?" It was clear Atlas had lost interest in the actual fight, he was just about ready to finish things up.

Vaulting up over the crates, Atlas fired his first shot into the chest of the body guard. The impact sending him to the ground, Atlas walked over and blasted the bodyguard in the face. "Don't you think it is weird how they only make bulletproof vests? Like surely getting shot anywhere is bad right?" Coming from the guy who had just been shot, Atlas then turned his attention to the last two gangsters. He watched as one ran for different cover it was the leader from the pickup, Atlas pointed his index finger at the guy's legs and fired off a couple of pellets of wrath at him and the gangster hit the floor pretty hard. Atlas moved over towards the fallen guy, leaving the last gangster to Nate and as Atlas walked he loaded his shotgun.

"You have a nice watch kid." He crouched down to the leader's level, as he did so the leader attempted to punch Atlas with the same arm that held the watch. Atlas grabbed the guy's arm and held it with a firm grip, he then proceeded to take the watch off the gangster's wrist. Letting go of the arm Atlas shot the guy in the chest, then placed the watch on his right arm holding it up to show his partner. "What do you think? Suits me right?"

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Sanjuro
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"You're the boss." By this point the fight was over. Atlas had done his usual thing and tore the place apart, though Nate had to admit he had done his fair share this time around. With an air of nonchalance he stood up from behind his cover and casually walked over to the hiding place of the last of the gangsters. The poor guy was cowering behind a crate, his hands shaking so much he couldn't even reload the six-shooter he had emptied. He couldn't be any older than seventeen or eighteen. Leaning against the crate, Nate tapped the barrel of Eclipse against the side of the kid's head and smiled. Unlike Atlas' grin it was rather friendly. "You really don't want to do that buddy. Trust me." A jerky nod was the only answer he got, and the revolver was dropped to the concrete floor with a loud clatter.

A buzzing reached the bar owner's ears and he reached into his pocket, scowling at the blood that was covering his pant leg. "That's gonna stain. Another bloody suit ruined." Slipping the phone out, he flipped it open and went over the text message. He smiled at the contents. "See what a few good threats can do? The price of this wine went from around a grand a pop to a couple hundred." A shuffle of movement was heard from behind and without missing a beat Nate whipped around and fired off a single shot. The bullet drilled into the ground half an inch from one of the dead gangster's gun, and less than a centimetre from the hand of the businessman. "Now now, don't be hasty. I'd hate to have to shoot you after the boss told me not to."

He glanced from the businessman to the watch Atlas was showing off, and scrunched his nose up at it. "A little gaudy for my tastes. Though, to each their own. It might look better when you get out of the suit. You're right you know, they really don't suit you. …Get it?" Nate chuckled at his own play on words and shook his head before turning back to smile at the kid. "Run along now. Surely you've got school or something to go to." He made a shooing motion with his gun and the kid nodded jerkily again, scrambling to his feet and taking off through the door that Atlas had broken down.

"Do you think we'll get less money for that car if the seats are covered in blood?" Nate was again looking down at his pants. "Seriously, this is why I can't have nice things boss. You get involved in these crazy situations way too much and drag me with you. These pants costs two hundred dosh a pair you know?"
Edited by Sanjuro, Aug 20 2015, 04:54 AM.
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