The Devil's Den

[Guest]

An unmarked truck slowly pulled up to a long warehouse, ranging around twenty miles from Ilium Casino. The driver, hidden behind tinted windows, could be seen wearing a worker's cap. Inconspicuous as he appeared to be, and liked to imagine he was, there was no hiding the face of a madman once the door opened. Stepping out and simply tossing the cap off, Randolph D. Styxx lifted the hood of his jacket over his head to conceal his face, toothy smile still glistening in the setting sun.

"Okay boys!" Walking around to the back of the vehicle, he lifted the door up revealing two thugs in black suits sitting within. "Showtime!" Snickering, he gave a simple hand gesture to instruct them to remain in the truck before hefting up a crate weighing at least half a ton and pulling it over his shoulder. Inside was exactly what the caller had ordered. Military grade assault rifles, concealable pistols, and one little extra tidbit. A missile launcher, disassembled to fit, but just as easy to fit back together. The Dresdens had received their pay through an anonymous wire beforehand, just as most deals went with the shady types. That's why they sent the shark.

Never know when some faces need to get busted when a job like this goes south.

Looking around slowly, the chimera jumped down from the inside of the truck making nary a sound. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he headed for the back door of the building, as instructed several hours before. Only thing he didn't like about this kind of deal was that he couldn't carry drugs on him, and right now his high was almost over. The edges of his eyelids almost as red as his own eye color, he was definitely not in the mood or mindset for bullshit.

Making it around back, he gave three knocks to the door before looking back and forth again. Randolph then gently laid the crate down as a view slot slid open. The guy peering at him was muscle, which he could deal with. Surprisingly enough, he had the brains to know Amestrian. This deal would most likely been done in an outside language all the way through. Made things harder for common feds to track without translators on hand.

"You have the goods, little man?"

Giving a smirk, the dealer jerked a thumb towards the crate before responding with, "Sure as hell ain't waltzing in here with a dozen roses, big guy."

[Guest]

Mitchell had just yesterday received a tip, which the one or in this case ones who gave the info would remain anonymous to all, well except Mitch who knew it was just some group of homeless who really needed some money. Quite good uses the homeless have, criminal types use them as runners and info carriers so who says that info can't be bought and everyone thinks a mole in your group not that hobo from 22nd street. Mitch sat in the building adjacent to the warehouse watching. As he sees the truck arrive and the MiB wannabees with their strange looking boss exit he mumbles lowly to himself " Well, looks like I got some reliable information. " he sighed then continued " Well let's get this show on the road. "

He set up a small yet visible mirror on the windowsill and threw some dark sheets on top of a chair laying in the room and completely covered it, then placed it right against the window. Mitch then cracked his knuckles and departed the room. Once Mitch reached the parking lot he looked around and saw that the area was completely open. Mitchell pulled his pistol from his side holster and checked the clip, saw it was fully loaded so he put the clip back in, cocked the gun and turned off the safety. He gently opened the front entrance which seemed to be unlocked and unguarded. " Must be on the other end of the place then, smart guys I have here " he lightly said once inside the warehouse. He looked around for a bit confused on which way to go until he heard faint Amestrian or at least it sounded like it.

Mitch following the talking as it grew a bit louder confirmed that it was in fact Amestrian. Well they were smarted than he thought, luckily for him he understood Amestrian it sounded almost as if he didn't know any better they were talking about some other kind of arms dealing from their chosen words. Mitch smirked and reached the door which he could hear they were on the other side he stopped suddenly and began to listen carefully first before taking action.

[Guest]

After some careful heckling from the guard dog, Randolph gave that Cheshire smile he was oh so remembered for before lugging in the load of weapons. There was plenty of movement coming from the room to the side, he could feel it in his pores, so he just assumed that was where the deal would go down. Walking over towards the door, the burly, red-haired man grabbed his shoulder with a careful shake of his head.

"The boss'll come out for you, kid."

Giving a bit of a growl, the man relinquished his grasp on the chimera and stepped back slightly. This brought a chuckle from the smaller beast. Meat heads like these were intimidating for most dealings, that was to be sure, but most of them wouldn't come towards a rabid dog within a foot of their life. This one had found his way inside a shark tank.

"Don't worry, you could've just said so. Heheheh..." Putting the cargo back down, Randolph gave a slight sigh as he rolled a shoulder and stretched. Slinking back to the wall, he waited. Time to see how legitimate this purchase was. First sign of trouble, and the muscle was getting his neck broke. Didn't matter who came at him or from where. The shark would know. He always knew as soon as a trap was sprung. Unless these guys had his profile and had packed some electromagnetic tech, which they couldn't get their hands on either if they could only afford a single shipment, he was perfectly fine.

Now he'd just have to wait until the goons in the room decided to come on out from their little tea party. Waiting was the hardest part of any job, but the chimera could deal with it. Well... as long as they didn't make him wait too damn long.

[Guest]

After the talking about the boss coming out Mitchell figured that he would stay put and wait for the so called " boss " who knows maybe it is someone big, or not and just some two bit thug who owns a alley and is affording this with old ladies dog treat money. Then it hit him that the boss may be coming from the way Mitch did so he moved back from the door and he hid behind some crates and waited listening to everything. While waiting he began to check the rest of his weapons such as his boot knives and other firearms. He then besides the annoying water drippings from leaky pipes and the talking of what sounded like a man who was not amused and another who seemed to be idiot Mitch had heard some foot steps approaching so he stayed perfectly still.

Approaching was some man, much smaller and less intimidating than thought, he was around a height of 5'10 and wore a charcoal suit, his hair almost more gel than hair actually, he seemed... to over think his importance maybe he was a bit of a narcissist as Mitch though that he must be a no one as if he was big time he would not need or want some two bit warehouse for a deal. The man walked with a quick stride to the door. He looked around before opening and seemed not to have seen Mitchell he flung the door open, seems as he is in a rush yet oddly he took the time to close the door behind him. He approached the smaller, man the one seemingly in charge of the deal.

Mitch happened to get a look in the room and saw some giant staring off as if he was barely conscious of anything except watching the other guy who Mitch still saw as odd and just had a bad feeling about him, if anyone here was a big time player it was him, the other two are just buying since the weird one drove the truck in so whatever. Mitchell moved closer to the door again but not very close to it yet enough to clearly hear.

[Guest]

Two minutes. Three minutes. Tick tock on the clock, the shark was getting hungrier by the second. The most he'd wait was fifteen, and that was being generous. These guys deserved some leeway, seeing as they'd picked a nice location for a sale. Not too clean, not too messy, and just in the right spot that a getaway could be made if someone had tailed them.

Randolph's thoughts were broken as he sensed movement coming from outside the double doors across the complex. Something wasn't going exactly the way the chimera had suspected, and that caused his smile to disappear. A growl bubbling up in his throat, he soon ceased as the boss, garbed in some low-class custom tailor rip-off, came prancing in. Looking him over, feeling his movements, Randolph knew two things. One, this guy was cocky, and two... He had a pistol under his coat, tucked in the back of his pants. There was a lot you could tell from body movements as it was, but being able to sense every electromagnetic pulse dispersed from the body as a target moved helped a lot in this line of work. Victor hadn't hired just any freak. He'd bought one of the best.

"You are laaaate!" The man's voice rang out in heavily accented Amestrian. This was going to be quite the show. "I said? Five. You arrive here at twenty after!"

"Traffic was a bitch, what can I say?" Not even moving from his spot, Randolph's grin returned. Giving a slight tilt to his head though, he continued. "I've already been paid for this load, you want it or not?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if I should have paid in first place! How do I know you aren't wired, eh?"

Oh, he'd spoken the magic words. This guy wanted proof? Randolph would give it to him. Jerking away from the wall, his claws dug into the face of the muscle he'd been plotting to kill already. Giving a slight hiss, he tore his hands back, dropping the behemoth of a man without even using his full power. No name guard was now on the ground crying in pain, blood pouring from the claw marks left on him.

"Would a cop or mili-cunt be packing heat like this?" Laughing maniacally, his cries of humor only continued as the boss stepped back, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost. "Or maybe you'd expect 'em to pack heat like this?"

The chimera's laughter abruptly stopped as he popped open the metal crate and kicked it over to the mafioso wannabe. Inside were evenly packaged guns of various sizes, and the big prize laid at the bottom, underneath it all. It was all there, no denying anything now.

"Point made, or does the ginger have to lose more blood?"

[Guest]

Well this was quite the meeting going on in there Mitchell began to think. Mitchell sat still the only movement was his eyes and his breathing really. He was waiting and hoping that he would not have to engage and maybe he could follow the weird guy back to wherever he was going so he was going to have to be careful in this. Mitchell had flinched ever so slightly as he heard the attack going on in there, he wanted to intervene but he couldn't. Mitchell gently moved back from the door as he was unsure of what might have been heard and he hid back behind the crates from earlier. He then wiped his forehead from the sweat, and he began to think it was quite hot in here and then that gave him an idea.

Mitchell got up quietly and left the area of the meeting and began to wander the other areas decently away. He opened some crates and took the packaging papers and straw along with other flammable equipment including gas containers. Mitch figured that if he was going to catch them he better limit them to one exit and and stop and reinforcements from here either so he would burn the area around the front entrance, hell who knows maybe take some equipment off the streets too if they leave it in there. Mitch pulled one of his match boxes and returned where he could vaguely hear them to acknowledge their presence but not enough to make much out.

[Guest]

Finishing the deal, and stomping on the fallen thug's gut for good measure, Randolph zipped up his jacket all the way before turning to exit the building. That's when he sensed something. Movement coming from somewhere... Where was it? His head darted to focus as he spun on his heal. Sniffing the air slightly, he grimaced and kicked the broken man to the other side of the room, through the double doors.

"You've got someone tracking you?" The chimera let out a growl before slinging a foot back and kicking the metal door behind him open. "Highly unprofessional." Cackling, he jumped backwards, landing hard on his feet outside, dust swirling around him. Making a reach for his pager, he watched as the men inside began to scatter, but stilled his hand. His laughter died down into barely a chuckle, but the sound was long and drawn out, continuing as he stepped back inside. He was startled, but he had to get a look at whoever it was attempting to hunt the hunter.

"I'm going to guess you speak Cretan. What exactly do you think you're doing here?" Stepping forward, he grabbed a crowbar from the top of a box and licked his lips. "Do you even know who you're dealin' with?"

[Guest]

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