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Man in White
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2024-10-29 19:42:56"How many more bounty hunters do you believe have been contracted?" A man covered in darkness asks from the shadows, hands in their pockets, part of their form shown by a small snippet of light. In front of this man stands a young man wearing white, lighting a cigarette, blowing smoke from his mouth, hair slicked back - black.
"Discounting Hunter's group, thirty others."
"Those Mafia fucks really want that gold huh?"
"Retards, thinking that the bounty hunters wouldn't try and take it for themselves."
"What makes you think that'll happen?"
"Of course it'll happen."
"Question."
"Hm?" He takes a long drag from his cigarette, "What's up?"
"How do you think they're transporting that gold? Wouldn't it be too heavy to be transported quietly?"
"Theory is that they thinned out the gold into little transparent sheets that are only visible through its gleam as the sun shines down upon it."
"Would they even be able to fit the
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Seth gets up and shakes Marshall's hand before sitting back down, "Nice to meet you, Marshall," Seth pauses, pointing at the man in black behind him, "Who's that?""Preston Scott, that's his name." Preston nods, bowing slightly, out of politeness.Seth nods, "What are you guys doing out here?""Looking for something." Marshall puts down a blanket and sits down on it, Preston remains standing."What are you two looking for?"Marshall chuckles, "Well, you and your compatriots actually," Marshall quickly shows both of his hands before they could even do anything, "We aren't here to kill you - you don't have to worry about that.""What are you here for then?"Marshall scratches his chin, "We're here to see if we should bet on you or not."Seth raises an eyebrow, "What?""We're apart of an organization that bets on if someone will either get caught within a major crime or not. It's called Dice24.""So you gamble on who
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Scratching metal, two long knives being brought together and dragged across the flats of each blade. Palach lets out a boisterous laugh as he places the knives down onto a table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, making sure they barely touch the backs of his elbows. Palach blows air from his nose, looking over to two men screaming in chairs with a scowl. "You'll tell me yes? Where they go?" Palach's expression becomes friendly, taking gags out from the men's mouths, distancing himself."JESUS FUCKING CHRIST LET ME LEAVE PLEASE!" Tears run down the man's cheeks, "I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FAMILY!""Тупица." Palach snarls, "I will let you leave if you tell me where gold is."The two men, one with a messy ponytail and dark brown hair while the one next to him wears a short beard and short hair, pitch black. The man with black hair stares over at his compatriot, eyes like daggers, "Don't you fucking tell him shit!"The one with dark brown hair squeals, glancin
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"Jesus Christ, look at this." Seth hands a newspaper he had in his hands to Nixon sitting beside him. Nixon's eyes widen, screwing up his nose in disgust."What happened?" Citlali asks, sitting on a tree stump whilst polishing her rifle."Some guy and his family were massacred, wife and child raped then tortured while the husband was apparently skinned alive. There was a witness but for some reason, he can't speak." Seth pauses, 'They don't know what traumas and PTSD is yet so I have to keep quiet about that.' Seth thinks to himself, his expression becoming progressively sourer and sourer. "I..." Seth stops himself, shaking his head, 'They'll just think I'm crazy if I go on.'Nixon tears the newspaper to shreds before putting his hands to his face, "I'm not reading that anymore... I don't want to be mad today." Nixon sneers, standing up and leaving, "I'm going for a walk."Citlali's expression becomes sorrowful, "How could someone do such a thing?"
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New York, April 1912...Seth, scars running across both of his cheeks, resting comfortably under closed eyes sits in a velvet chair, legs crossed over one another, a black dress suit covering his body. An older man with curly black hair, grey strands appearing here and there, a curled black mustache sitting above his lip. Hands in their pockets, they seat themselves behind a desk, sipping at a glass of whiskey. The older man sighs before placing the glass of whiskey down before him. "So, you're the one that had my gold?" The older man asks, eyebrow arched as he leans over his neatly carved desk.Nixon walks into the room with a casual saunter, grabbing a chair in the back corner of the room and sitting it beside Seth, placing himself down into it. Seth nods, "Yes, I and my compatriot here, including a few others have procured your gold with me."The older man nods, "I should introduce myself - My name is Falcone Russo, you are?""Seth, just Seth."
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"Hey! We got a job for you!" A man yells, his form obscured by a shadow in a doorway. He throws a note onto the ground and it slides towards someone else, who of which is curled into a ball in the corner of the room. An older man, cold dead eyes, unkempt, wearing a dirty wifebeater with torn pants. "You gonna do it?""No choice, why give me an option." The unkempt man says, standing up, still situating himself in the corner of the room. His eyes are attracted to the note, reading the two names scrawled upon it. "Seth Alpheus Hunt," and "Nixon Driver." The unkempt man stares at the note for a moment before looking back at the man propped against his room's doorway. "Who are these guys?""We just want them dead, don't ask questions. You'll have Snake come with you, is that alright?""That's fine."The unkempt man lets out a sigh, "Are these the guys who stole that Mafia's gold?"Before the man in the doorway leaves, he stops midway before turning bac
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Bloody spit pooled under Nixon's tongue, spitting it out intermittently as he stares down at the half-dead Palach, knuckles facing the floor whilst palms are pointed towards the ceiling. Blood streams out from Palach's broken nose, knuckles scraped and bloodied, Nixon's face bruised - his top brow cut open, blood staining one half of his face. Nixon goes to grab his gun but stops himself, deciding to leave instead of wasting any more time on Palach.Seth careens into a wall while running back to Nixon, "We need to find a different exit!" Seth screams as he presses his back to the wall beside him. Nixon presses his back against the wall as well, revolver in hand. Seth glances at Nixon for a second before looking back down the hallway he just came through from, "You're looking worse for wear.""That fucking Russian was strong." Nixon sneers as he lowers himself. A crashing could be heard through the wall they've got their shoulders pressed again. Seth jumps away from the
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Bloody spit pooled under Nixon's tongue, spitting it out intermittently as he stares down at the half-dead Palach, knuckles facing the floor whilst palms are pointed towards the ceiling. Blood streams out from Palach's broken nose, knuckles scraped and bloodied, Nixon's face bruised - his top brow cut open, blood staining one half of his face. Nixon goes to grab his gun but stops himself, deciding to leave instead of wasting any more time on Palach.Seth careens into a wall while running back to Nixon, "We need to find a different exit!" Seth screams as he presses his back to the wall beside him. Nixon presses his back against the wall as well, revolver in hand. Seth glances at Nixon for a second before looking back down the hallway he just came through from, "You're looking worse for wear.""That fucking Russian was strong." Nixon sneers as he lowers himself. A crashing could be heard through the wall they've got their shoulders pressed again. Seth jumps away from the
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"You gave him to the doctors?" Seth asks, leaning on a table, surrounded by chairs. They're in a small-town bar, using their time there to relax. Nixon sits in one of the chairs and Seth follows, sitting across from Nixon."Yeah, that Vincent guy.""What about the dude with the mask?""You forget his name?"Seth chuckles, "Yeah.""I gave him to the girls, they're staying in the forest with him by the hip, best that way, don't want to cause suspicion.""Is Tsuki staying with this Vincent fellow?""Yeah, he's with the doctor right now."Seth scans the bar - A young woman with short black hair, a scar running across the lower part of her eye - she wipes down cups and bottles clean with a rag behind a counter, she's the bartender. Two others sit on stools sipping at large jugs of beer, their hands tensing as they raise it to their lips due to its weight. One's face is rough, light scars darting across it including the signature sco
