BANG straight through my heart! {OPEN}

[Ilani Runningwolf]

It was night, it was quiet, and if the lithe shadow standing up against the bus stop at the side of the street had balls, they’d be a melted pile of weird colored goo at her feet.
Summer. How she hated the season.

“You sure ‘bout this intel, Tobias?” The figure growled into the cracked mouthpiece of her cell phone, a used dark blue Razor that’d seen more air-time than any commercial plane. “The last time we got dirt from the Howlers, I was stuck standing in the middle of a goth-rave. I wanted to shoot someone, Tobias.”

“Oh stop whining. You sound like a girl.” Tobias Kest, her contractor, growled in that familiarly gravelly cadence of his. Nearing the big 4-0, her boss had the face of a gargoyle, and the uncanny ability to make pretty much everyone of the opposite gender turn into a puddle at his feet.

It was SUCH a good thing that she’d spent most of her life in Faraway City, home of the Stone Cold Biotches.
And she, Pocahontas Runningwolf, aka ‘Ilani’, aka ‘That Crazy Woman Over There’, was the Queen of those nasty little people.
Players of the world beware; you have no idea who you’re dealing with.

Moving a cigarette from one side of her rusty-red colored lips to the other, she rolled dark emerald eyes at the lamp post in front of her. “I know you’re simple, Tobs, but I am a girl. Try to remember that, huh?”

“You don’t really give a guy much to play off of, honey-pie.” Tobias replied, a throaty chuckle echoing in the silence surrounding her.

Hardy-har-har. Just because she could whup the muscular behinds of her brethren, she’d been dubbed a manly-wanna-be. The world was just so damn chauvinistic lately.
Raking some similarly dusky red nails through her long, raven black hair, currently sporting an array of little coffin hairpieces, she took a drag of the cig before letting it drop to the ground, where one black work-booted foot proceeded to crush the life out of it.
Now, before the dirty mind could jump to such a conclusion, our heroine was not one of the city’s more…loose of women. And neither was she a drug addict waiting for her best friend to provide her with a good fix.
Ilani, as cliché as it might sound, was a bounty hunter. And damn proud of it, thanks so much.

Wearing a pair of ripped blue jeans equipped with a tight black shirt- “It wasn’t me!”, white words read, and it would have been comical if she didn’t actually use the phrase from time to time- and a leather biker jacket sporting faded lettering on the back- ‘Beijing Butcher’, oddly- she made an interesting sight.

On any casual glance, one would pinpoint her as a rebellious youth- for she couldn’t be any older than 21, and 25 was pushing it. Certainly not an assassin for hire, whose conscience had long since died a horrible little death, leaving her to rot with that satanic little voice on her opposite shoulder.

She was immoral, she was damn good at what she did…

…And currently melting into a bounty hunter-sized puddle. Gah. She HAD to go and wear that Kevlar under her shirt. What a dumb idea.

So- as unhappy about it as she was- there she was; standing beside the local bus stop with her phone plastered to her ear, as her boss blathered on and on about ‘the last time’, and ‘not getting too trigger happy’.

Her, trigger happy? Ha. Try trigger-obsessed.

Touching back on that ‘hunter’ concept, Ilani was none other than one the City’s most notorious guns for hire, specializing in Dickhead-Incarceration. They ticked the right people off, she hauled their sometimes flabby asses to jail. It was as simple as that.

And tonight’s intended targets- whoever the hell they were- were supposedly lurking around somewhere close. Two men, or so the intelligence had informed her, with the uncanny ability to seem harmless and blend in with the surrounding crowd. Ha. Like anyone with a warehouse full of guns somewhere on the West Side can blend in. But what could she say? People were just so damn stupid that way.

“Just remember what the Shrink said, huh, honey?” Tobias went on, referring to their group’s psychiatrist. A retired shrink for the local maximum security prisons’ more penitent of convicts, the shrunken woman tried to keep most of Kest’s guys and gals in semi-sane condition.

…Then again, they hunted people for a living. Didn’t that mean that they were already just a bit off the reservation? But whatever. As long as she got paid, she could give two farts.

“Yeah, I’m cool. But the mark’s not supposed to show up for another five hours, so I’m gonna head out and get a drink. Cool down. It’s friggin HOT, Tobs.” Whining was never her forte, but she pulled it off just fine. Laughing at the growl that followed, she flipped the phone shut and trotted across the empty street, heading for the bakery she’d passed on her way to the bus stop.

[Rev.Fr. Florence Claude]

Florence wasn't used to walking without wearing his priestly garb. He often lived with his 'uniform'. Whenever he wore it, he felt like he was in power. People would look up to him, step aside to let him pass, bow gently in reverence to his greatness. But none of that was happening now. Oh no. He chose not to look like a holy man, mostly because his task today was not a holy one.

Today was not the first time he would have heard of certain people doing certain favors for money. And he didn't mean favors like those they did for you in the Cave of Wonders. Oh no. Rather, he'd heard of people who were experts in exterminating pests, whether it be bugs or people. He smiled to himself, walking down the streets as he searched for them. He had been tipped off that he could catch a conversation with one of them this week and there he was, waiting. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been caught lurking around the streets this late at night.

He waited patiently, humming to himself, watching the darkness silently. He thought about his plans, picturing them unfold before his eyes. Would he really go through this just to get what he wants? Yes, he would. After all, Florence wasn't doing it just for himself. Oh no. He was doing it for Faraway. This was all for the people. And they would eventually thank him for it. In the mean time, he would have to do this by himself.

He caught sight of a woman, walking down the street, heading for the terminal. He wasn't quite sure if she was who he was looking for, after all, it was dark, and the priest's eyesight wasn't as reliable as it was years ago. But something about the girl felt different, so he decided to approach her.

The reverend could barely catch up to her, for she was walking rather briskly, and he wasn't gonna be seen shouting at her. He wanted the deal to go smoothly, without anyone finding a way to trace this back to him if things got messy. He eventually caught up to her, stopping to catch a breath as she reached the bakeshop.

"Excuse me," he called out to her calmly, though a hint of exasperation in his voice echoed as he attempted to catch his breath. "Do you know where I can get in touch with someone who can help me out with something I need done?" He tried to be inconspicuous and vague, but he felt like he just confused the girl before him.

[Ilani Runningwolf]

((Ah my gah, I'm SO sorry for taking so long to get back to you! I have no idea why I didn't see you'd posted. e_e;; I'm blind...bah...))
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Once inside, Ilani busied herself by flirting with the kid behind the counter and eavesdropping on those mingling about inside. Everyone seemed so normal; so unassuming, that she was so tempted to relax and pretend that she was one of their ilk. Leaning sideways against the counter while she waited for the blushing teenager to fill her order, she listened in on the conversations around her.

“No, Johnny…I only slept with him one time.”
“Oh, hey Mom. I’m…uh…at Michelle’s house studying.”
“Dammit, Mary, I love you! Why won’t you believe me?”

…Okay, so there was her thinking that the world was a happy place. Where the hell had all that damn angst come from? For a second there, the insane urge to give up her calling and join a convent was almost too strong to bear.

Thank Whoever for the knowledge that no sane priest would ever let HER through the church gates without an army standing by at the ready. So, in an attempt to make that cross a bit lighter on her shoulders, she contented herself with the reassurance that she was not the only messed up person in the universe. The sudden sound of a stranger’s voice behind her pulled her out of her reverie, and blowing a line of smoke out of the corner of her lips, a pair of pale blue eyes flickered sideways. Mmm, what was this? Someone looking for directions, or something?

As his question finally sank in, however, all the friendliness on her face proceeded to die a very unhappy death. He so wasn’t asking her what she thought he was asking her…because if he was mistaking her for a hooker, he was going to get a size 6 boot up his craggy old ass.

With a raised brow, she gave him a quick once over before answering. “That depends on what the ‘something’ might be. Choose your words carefully, bucko; I’m in a piss poor mood to deal with stupid people tonight.”

[Rev.Fr. Florence Claude]

The priest shook his head at the women's lack of respect. It was definitely a factor that he hadn't been in his priestly garb, but he figured that someone who was dealing with a potential client probably should show some proper courtesy. Blaming it all on poor upbringing or a horrible lifestyle, Florence let the attitude slide. Maybe this was how all hooligans acted, and she was just merely living the life. Regardless, he wasn't here to make friends, but rather, for business. If she could do what it was that he needed done, then he'd be satisfied.

"I would have thought you'd grow fond of stupid people by now," he replied coldly. The old man crossed his arms, eyeing the girl once more, judging whether or not it was actually her. If it wasn't, then it would be a little bit more than just a little embarrassing, not to mention that his plans would somehow fall on innocent ears. After a couple of moments, all forms of second thoughts disappeared. He grabbed her gently by the wrist and proceeded to guide her to the corner of the shop. He sat on the empty booth, and urged her to sit down with him, before looking around, as though making sure no one was listening in.

The priest cleared his throat and began to speak in a low but harsh tone. "I hear that you have a... gift, for exterminating pests. Well, I need you to get rid of a couple of people," he said the last word in a hushed tone. The entire room fell silent, as though death itself walked amidst them and told them to shut up. Realizing the harshness of his words, and how the Father would probably frown upon acts like such, he clarified, "Well, maybe not get rid off, but at least, keep an eye on, for a couple of days." He ran his finger through his chin, the wheels in his head trying to process something. It wasn't until after a few moments of silence that he continued.

"But when I give you the signal, I want to have them rounded up together. Basically, sort of like taking people hostage. Think you can do that?" he asked her, hoping that she would affirm it. Florence knew that they had their methods, and most of them involved just killing someone. He didn't know if they could do 'hostage-taking'.


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Notes: Don't worry 'bout it Sorry, it's a bit lame.

[Ilani Runningwolf]

((It was booootiful; watchoo talkin' bout? ;p ))
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Gah, but the urge to poke the dude in his squinty eyes when he shook his head at her was almost too much to bear. There was just something about him…something that screamed ‘I AM BETTER THAN YOU, BIOTCH’ that made her raise those invisible hackles. What, did he not understand that she wasn’t a hooker? ‘Cause man, if he tried to frikkin’ feel her up, or something, he was gonna really know what it was like to meet God…

It was pretty much the fact that she was sputtering over his ‘stupid’ comment that she didn’t strike out at him for touching her. Man, who did this moron think he was, dragging her anywhere? He obviously didn’t know who he was messing with, or he’d probably be cupping himself on the other side of the room! When they arrived to their little ‘meeting spot,’ Ilani yanked her arm out of his grip and scowled at him.

“First off, don’t fuckin’ touch me or I’ll rip your fuckin’ fingers off,” She said, making sure her voice sounded just as arctic as his did. She was about to go on; to throw out a few more choice threats before she rearranged his balls…but ended up biting them back when he started talking again. Exterminating pests? Get rid of people? Holy crap, did he think that she was an assassin?

Great, there went her reputation for being a fan of the law. Sure, she liked to break ‘em every once in a while, if it meant catching a mark…but c’mon, man! Did she dress like a hit-woman? Covertly, she glanced down at herself. She looked a bit anti-establishment, sure, and it’d taken years to perfect her ‘fuck you’ attitude, but…seriously? An assassin? A killer? Johnny was going to DIE when she told him about this.

Well, after she managed to resuscitate her ego, that is.

The room went quiet, Ilani mentally cursed…and then, thank you baby Jesus, the guy seemed to correct himself. Okay, so was he looking for a hit-woman or a freaking babysitter? What the hell?

Shoving a hand through her hair, she leaned her elbows on the table and gave him an exasperated look. “Okay, buddy…I dunno who gave you your information, but I’m a bounty hunter. I don’t ‘exterminate’ anything that don’t have more than two legs, I’m not a PI you can hire to follow people around, and I don’t friggin’ KIDNAP anyone! The cops put people on Wanted Posters, they don’t have the resources or the balls to go after ‘em, and then I claim the bounty and move in. I deliver them to the cops mostly alive. Understand?”

[Rev.Fr. Florence Claude]

(aww, you're too kind!)
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He felt his arm being thrown off as she yanked her arm out of his grip. For a woman, she was pretty strong, he had to hand that to her. And she was feisty. From her whole demeanor, to her actions and responses, and even in the manner she spoke, it was all very strong. Just exactly what Florence was looking for. But just then, she had this look, one that the priest wasn't expecting to see, one that he had seen on the faces of countless people. The look of doubt.

It was as though there was something he had said that didn't quite register with the girl. Like she was even shocked to hear his request. Surely, this wasn't their first time right? After all, they were paid money. That should have been enough for desperate hunters like themselves.

He was about to speak up when she interrupted him, throwing him an exasperated look. Then, she began to clarify what exactly it was that she did, and Florence listened carefully. Well, so far, so good. They were bounty hunters, which meant they did hunting for money. But then, she blurted out that they didn't kidnap people, causing the priest to shake his head. "Maybe we got into a miscommunication, alright? I don't mean kidnap in the literal sense. Just keep people at bay. Hold them together, until we're sure that they can cause no more trouble."

Figuring that she wouldn't get exactly it is what he wanted, unless he explained things fully, he rolled his eyes. He had always figured her kind of people knew how to transact subtly, by reading through hints. Apparently, he got to meet the dense one. He cleared his throat before turning to her again.

"Listen. I'm sure you are well aware of the virus surrounding Faraway. The virus known as magic. People walk around thinking that magic is the solution to life, when all it is is the lazy way out. And what happens in turn? These magic folk start from using their powers to do things like make juice or clean the house. But eventually, you know where that's headed. They want to make bigger things happen. They start thinking that they're now all powerful. And these impulsive actions are what I'm trying to stop," every word that he said sounded with conviction, something easy to do seeing as he believed in his cause. He knew that the time of magic will soon overpower him and eventually be abused, and he figured that now is the time to stop it, before it gets put in a wider scale.

He let out an insulting laugh when she mentioned the cops. "By the time they even start rounding up magic as a cause of the crimes here in Faraway, it'd be too late. Florence took a small envelope out of his pocket and pulled out a picture of an old lady selling fruits on the street. "Like her, for example. Seemingly harmless, but quite dangerous. Five women who have been believed to be kidnapped were last seen buying fruits from this lady. Now sure, it may seem like such an off coincidence, but take a look at the next image." The next picture showed the image of a rather young looking man with eye-liner. "Eight eye-witness accounts said that he turned three market vendors into pigs. So tell me, is that not something that will terrorize this city? Do we wait for the cops to start piecing things together while some people wait to be toyed around with? I'm presenting you with an opportunity to be one of the first ever people to get priority on the sure to be well-priced heads of these scum. So, tell me. Are you in?"