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Hey it's AWFUL in here, don't look unless you like AWFUL THINGS. CW: torture, gore, The Worst Shit
Once, not terribly long ago at all, the sight of this destroyed and mostly abandoned city would have filled him with sadness. Shattered ghosts of a world that now only existed in memory, floors that were spotted with broken glass, apartments and homes that stood empty. All who remained within it reduced to wild animals killing and torturing each other for sport. Who knew what tragedy, what desperation or what depravity drove them here, who knew what their stories were? He'd come here on a mission once, he'd come here in the name of succor, with the high minded idea of salvation or if nothing else, to offer some comfort in whatever way he might be able to, calling those neutral zones his home.
Once, he'd been human. Technically still was, though only by virtue of birth and genetics at this point. Turns out mixing unknown chemicals and experimental technology without the appropriate amount of caution was not the best idea, especially when one of these chemicals was a mind and body altering drug. He'd known what he'd gotten his hands on had been powerful, quite pure. Nothing else would have done. But perhaps he'd... misjudged just precisely what the effects would be, when paired with that experimental concoction he'd crafted. It'd worked so well on paper, worked so well in the vials. But paper and vials weren't flesh and blood. And in the end, perhaps it was fair to say that the gentle, driven man who'd entered this blood drenched city had died in his noble attempt to cure what was only one of this places many, many ills. Because not much remained of him now, save for brilliantly burning embers of a now shattered, would-be savior. Oh well, maybe he should have paid more attention to that Icarus story.
But hey, diving down to the bottom of the ocean was kind of like flying! This metaphor was getting a bit scrambled, a lot like the gray matter of the man on the floor in front of him, as he picked through shattered bone and pulverized flesh for the bullet. Nifty trick, he could always fix the old one, but he still needed the old one.
"Sorry man, but hey, look at it like this," ah, there it was, he pulled the deformed chunk of metal from the pinkish gray mass, "you really weren't using them much anymore anyway." True enough, the fellow was already lost in the sauce for a long time before he found him. End Line usage? Fix the addiction? Sure he could do that, he remembered that was what he wanted, still wanted, an ever fervently burning desire. Nothing ended it better than not being alive anymore. A shame, really. They didn't deserve to die, it wasn't their fault. But a sick animal was a sick animal and hey, no one technically deserved anything, death or otherwise. No one missed a druggie either, not the weak little nippers anyway. He'd kept on the down low for a while, learning the ins and outs of his new body, so to speak. What he could do, what he couldn't do. Some poor bastard got to learn with him just how much punishment the former scientist's body could take, boy was that fun! If he recalled, quite a few people got to see that one... Good. Got the rumor mill running, he needed the attention.
Didn't get it running quite as well as gunning down one particularly vicious user, the entire affair was very public. Very loud, very gory, rules were broken but that last part barely even registered for him, he didn't give a shit. And now, now he had all the attention he could hope for. It probably would have been very smart to not fire a loudass fucking high caliber handgun in these silent as the grave streets, but oh well too late now. Oh boy it'd be a real damn shame if someone heard it.
.... And for a good measure why not smack a garbage can lid against a wall for a second HELLO.
"C'mon, what's a guy gotta do to get an audience around here?"
Once, he'd been human. Technically still was, though only by virtue of birth and genetics at this point. Turns out mixing unknown chemicals and experimental technology without the appropriate amount of caution was not the best idea, especially when one of these chemicals was a mind and body altering drug. He'd known what he'd gotten his hands on had been powerful, quite pure. Nothing else would have done. But perhaps he'd... misjudged just precisely what the effects would be, when paired with that experimental concoction he'd crafted. It'd worked so well on paper, worked so well in the vials. But paper and vials weren't flesh and blood. And in the end, perhaps it was fair to say that the gentle, driven man who'd entered this blood drenched city had died in his noble attempt to cure what was only one of this places many, many ills. Because not much remained of him now, save for brilliantly burning embers of a now shattered, would-be savior. Oh well, maybe he should have paid more attention to that Icarus story.
But hey, diving down to the bottom of the ocean was kind of like flying! This metaphor was getting a bit scrambled, a lot like the gray matter of the man on the floor in front of him, as he picked through shattered bone and pulverized flesh for the bullet. Nifty trick, he could always fix the old one, but he still needed the old one.
"Sorry man, but hey, look at it like this," ah, there it was, he pulled the deformed chunk of metal from the pinkish gray mass, "you really weren't using them much anymore anyway." True enough, the fellow was already lost in the sauce for a long time before he found him. End Line usage? Fix the addiction? Sure he could do that, he remembered that was what he wanted, still wanted, an ever fervently burning desire. Nothing ended it better than not being alive anymore. A shame, really. They didn't deserve to die, it wasn't their fault. But a sick animal was a sick animal and hey, no one technically deserved anything, death or otherwise. No one missed a druggie either, not the weak little nippers anyway. He'd kept on the down low for a while, learning the ins and outs of his new body, so to speak. What he could do, what he couldn't do. Some poor bastard got to learn with him just how much punishment the former scientist's body could take, boy was that fun! If he recalled, quite a few people got to see that one... Good. Got the rumor mill running, he needed the attention.
Didn't get it running quite as well as gunning down one particularly vicious user, the entire affair was very public. Very loud, very gory, rules were broken but that last part barely even registered for him, he didn't give a shit. And now, now he had all the attention he could hope for. It probably would have been very smart to not fire a loudass fucking high caliber handgun in these silent as the grave streets, but oh well too late now. Oh boy it'd be a real damn shame if someone heard it.
.... And for a good measure why not smack a garbage can lid against a wall for a second HELLO.
"C'mon, what's a guy gotta do to get an audience around here?"
no subject
Gunji wasn't much for learning but even he recognized that Toshima, was a shithole. And not the kinda shithole you could have a good time in too, not that it stopped him from trying that is. You know a place is rotten to the core when even the grave worms only drop by drop off their trash. Not that Gunji would care where he was, the psychopathic could be comfortable in a dumpster with nothing but a plastic sheet and dirty newspaper to keep him warm. Nah, he gave zero fucks about aesthetics or safety, didn't need them, he made his own of both. After all, there wasn't a guy alive that looked like the executioner nor felt as confident in his own ability to wander the broken streets swinging his dick like he owned the place.
Which, to be fair? He kinda did. Or well Papa did and Gunji did his boss' dirty work for him so in a roundabout way, sure he could say he owned the streets. The streets he was currently trawling, looking for rule-breakers, those rejects shooting up Line and stealing other combatants' dog tags. It had been slim pickings for a good fight lately, seemed there was some super freak getting to all the junkies before Arbitro's mad dogs could get a sniff in. That simply wouldn't do.
The call came in as Gunji was just finishing up interigating some worthless bystander. Zipping up the broken fly of his cargo trousers after cleaning his now bloodied, limp dick against their fucked up face, or well, what was left of it, when the shots fired were heard, loud and clear. His hostage slumped to the side, blood pooling from their now hollow eyesocket and ears, the thick creamy goo trickling down their bruised and unrecognizable face looked like tears. Gunji had taken his time with this one, after all, skullfucking was only fun when the other guy was awake, otherwise, it was just like beating off to a corpse and he could do that at home anytime!
Kiriwar rounded the corner with a groan, nodding towards the sound as if ordering the blond to go check it out " Uwwwwahh!| Oi! Old man! What? Gettin' too fuckin' lazy to do a lil' leg work nyaaah!/" He all but yelled in the tanned man's face before pumping those clawed fists of his in the air. The mute, blind pet they were permitted to take on missions with them, crawled over to Gunji's leg, pawing at him softly and nuzzling his sensitive nose into his crotch. The blond laughed, pushing that head of pure white hair away. "Yea yea Tama I'm goin' I'm goooooing~ I'll bring ya back a bone! Kitties love bones~Kyahaha! Laughing maniacally as he flipped his partner off and hocked up a ball of phlegm to spit into the open, broken jaw of the guy he'd been questioning so thoroughly on the floor.
It didn't take him too long to find the offender in question. Or well, to find what was left of him anyway. Gunji, having traveled via the rooftops and scaffolding, managed to cover most of the City in a matter of minutes. It was far quicker up there than down in the congested, wasteland of the streets and back alleyways. Pushing his red riding hood back, and peering through the mess of dirty blond bangs, Gunji watched curiously at this strange man simply loitering at the scene of a brutal crime. The fuck's his deal? Off his face on Line or something? Gunji ain't never seen anyone look that altered due to the drug and he'd seen some fucked up shit. Opting, for now, to stay juuuust out of sight, he crouched down and leaned forwards against a building works pipe, licking his lips and tipping his head.
It wouldn't take long for him to get antsy and wanna jump down there to interrogate him, but for now, he was content to watch and learn... Something he wasn't very good at, after all, there was only so long you could live vicariously and get off on cheap highs that weren't your own, it would only be a matter of time before the executioner hopped down to play. Consider him a red devil, this was his domain remember...
...It was hell out there.
no subject
Nothing in the city quite like him, nothing this fucked up... Looking. Looking, he knew who he was looking for here, humming to himself as he cast his eye about the place. Don't leave him waiting, he put on a whole show! This way and that way his horned head bobbed, as if following drunkenly along to some unheard tune, the thorny halo following his every motion as if it were solidly attached in some fashion to the rest of him. Though the motion seemed meaningless, it was no coincidence that when he paused, his head had rolled lightly towards Gunji's location before the blond had even started to move.
"What, do I have to give you a permission slip?" No, he wasn't necessarily in sight, but then Chaos didn't necessarily need to see him to know his general location.
"C'mon, it's gonna be a real pain in my ass if I have to use another bullet here. You know how hard it is to keep looking for 'em?" Idle chitchat with the air in roughly the direction he thought his company might be in, banging the lid lightly against the wall once more.
"Don't make me go looking for you, I just wanna talk a bit~. It'll be fine."