Wanderers : Open RP - Current Pace: Stopped/Sporadic

Pulling in his legs Nyte sat upright in the passenger seat of the car breathing heavily. After catching his breath Nyte looked at Del. "Thanks" He said, "but I don't think my legs like how you drive either." Nyte let out a soft laugh as he examined the grazing wound on his leg. Nothing serious, so he pulled the semi from his belt and enjoyed the ride. Not really caring where they would end up next.

(Apologies, had finished this in the morning, but couldn't find anywhere at work with free WiFi.)

A loud thump bounced through the cabin, like the lamppost had been training in a basement for years and demanded a rematch. It was quiet for another moment, and she thought good and bad things about a shot-up corpse at her driver’s side. But the door opened, shattering the morbid fantasy, and replacing it with a sudden fear, or maybe anger. The man was a freight train, and he barreled into the front seat, jumping the rails, yelling to someone about hotwiring the car – cutting himself short when he saw the keys. Another found his way into the shotgun side, landing kind of haphazardly onto the ripped and stained seat.

Ignition roaring to life, the gearshift was pulled into drive – she was thusfar unnoticed, and was trembling hard.

But then the back seat caught a breeze, and she was crushed under a warm mass. A just-less-than-audible hurf escaped the girl, the door slamming shut behind another intruder. He caught her widened eyes and muttered something action-hero sounding, and the car jumped hurriedly from the alley.

She frowned harshly, and tried pushing the man from his seat. Except her arms were pinned, and he had several pounds on her, probably muscle. “Ger’ruff of me!” was all she thought to say, and it escaped her in a spat breath, voice like a synthesized buzzsaw, like a little girl all dressed up in her mother’s skin.

They were already straightened out on the street, speeding up tremulously, engine disagreeing with the sprinting pace.

((getting off work at 11pm est so I'm gonna reserve this spot for my post, if nobody minds. Will edit when I get home!))

(Sorry for the late response, I feel asleep watching netflix.)

"Lay down some cover fire for the man, damn it!"

The man calling himself Nyte bolted for the car. Hot on his tail were multiple enforcers opening fire.

Lining the enforcers up in his sights Dice opened fire. The sound was deafening and time itself seemed to slow.
Round after round flew at the enforcers, several took cover but a few did not. One man took a round in the leg, the chest, and finally went down in a spray of blood as a round hit him in the neck.

Realizing that chasing the Han Veo was a suicide mission the other two enforcers turned to run back, but Dice was faster on the reflexes. One man fell to his knees as a round hit him square in the back, but the man mowing them down was not a merciful person. Round after round hit the enforcer, each new hit causing a spurt of blood.

Horrified the man running next to him just froze, as he could not believe what was happening, earlier it appeared they had the upper hand. That was a fatal mistake, a single three-round burst took down the last enforcer in the street.

Dice turned around to reload the weapon and noticed Nyte had gotten into the car.

With a smirk and a slight cackle Dice began to reload the weapon. "How was that for suppressing fire?" He said.

"How was that for suppressing fire?"

Looking into the side mirror Nyte could see the white haired man with a smirk across his face, obviously pleased with what he accomplished. Without turning around Nyte replied to Dice. "Pretty damned good if you ask me." As the Han Veo picked up speed Nyte leaned out of the front passenger window holding the handle under the ceiling tightly with one hand and his semi-automatic pistol with the other. The wind felt good against his sweating skin, his hair blowing wildly in the night air. Nyte grinned slyly as they gained on the rusty yellow sedan that the others were in.

The yellow sedan barreled down the street with reckless abandon as the two Irishmen, Vic, and their new 'passenger' made their getaway. Enforcer's and Blood Roses alike dove out of the way of the speeding car and one strange man on the side of the road even made a small shooting motion at them with his hand. Lupus laughed aloud from behind his painted mask and Redd took the time to blow the man a mock kiss as they sped off.

Only an idiot would lone wolf in a city like San Paro.

Oh sure, there was a chance that any person met on the street could offer you a helping hand one minute and put a bullet in the back of your head the next but that was still a better chance of survival then the inevitability of running into a group of 20+ riot-equipped enforcers with itchy trigger fingers and little desire to make actual arrests. In San Paro, friends are necessary if you want to live long enough to make it to the corner store down the street during a simple beer run.

"Well wasn't dat a fukin' treat!" Redd laughed as he watched a man in the car behind them mow down a group of enforcers with a machine gun. "Never in my life have I had da pleasure o' gettin' shot at fer takin' a damn taxi!"

"What 'bout last family reunion?" Lupus growled as he leaned out his window and fired a shotgun blast at an enforcer running down the sidewalk. The man dropped like a ton of stones.

"Oh ya... well other den dat time, then."

The yellow car's engine screeched in protest as Redd forced the petal down to get them farther away from the heart of the police raid. Looking through the back window, Lupus could see that anyone trying to pursue them would have to get past their machine-gun-totting companions. They were safe, momentarily.

"Ya know, ya really shouldn't sit on a pretty lady like dat." The large mohawk-sporting Irishman chuckled as he pulled his hockey-mask down to reveal his gruff, scarred, and unshaven features. His golden eyes glinted as he stared down at their 'passenger' with a smirk. "She might try ta charge ya extra..." As Redd lit up another cigarette (his had fallen out during their mad dash), Lupus opened his cousin's duffel bag and pulled out a few bottles of Guinness Extra Stout which he offered to the two in the back seat. "Name's Lupus, dis here is Redd, consider dese on da house."

Did'e jus' mock me? I think 'e did... Th'fucker. Who does 'e think 'e'is. 'im an' his lil' ragtag group.

His pulse began to pound so hard it was all he could hear. He was usually quite and non-chalant like a summer breeze drifting through town, but if anything got to him, it was his challenge being returned. The mutt liked to think he was top dog, even if he was far from it. Sephr wasn't going to take this like some citizen caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. To him, every place was his and ever moment his to make shine. He began to run, almost as if he put down his front legs like a hound who finally found its' prey.

Fuck'n show them...

Sephr skidded on the wet pavement as he rounded a corner at full speed. He could hear the other car coming and wanted to make sure he could at least give some of the group a good scare. The mutt didn't want to hurt them, just bark louder to let them know who was the alpha male of the streets. As he ran down the sidewalk he neared his one prized possession, a flat-black Vegas that the old man had left for him. Without missing a beat he opened the door and jumped in. He hit the ignition switch as all eight cylinders woke from their restive slumber.

Metal touched metal as the gas pedal hit the floorboards, the engine roared as loud as it could. He came drifting out of the alley just behind the stragglers. He made sure he was right on their ass-end before he turned his lights on, hoping to cause the driver a good scare and force the man to swerve out of his way so he could get past towards his new challenger.

A smirk spread across his face behind the mask that provided secrecy to its' wearer. Maybe thi'bunch'll be fun aft'all.

The four made their way down the street filled with death and destruction. Vicarius got up off of the unlucky girl, and sat upright on one side of the backseat. Vic realizing his mistake, takes the situation lightly. He peers at the girl's face and gives a cheerful smirk, "Sorry about that miss, didn't mean to leap onto a young lady such as yourself like that."

As Redd lit up another cigarette (his had fallen out during their mad dash), Lupus opened his cousin's duffel bag and pulled out a few bottles of Guinness Extra Stout which he offered to the two in the back seat. "Name's Lupus, dis here is Redd, consider dese on da house."

Vic looks to the two in front, and begins to grin wildly at the sight of the alcohol. "Haha, I could use something to drink. Guiness too?...You both are definately Irish, a lively bunch I might add. Call me Vicarius, or Vic for short. Cheers."

As he opens the beverage, the dark liquid gives a scent of older days and simpler times. Vic takes an extended swig then rips the sleeve of his wounded arm revealing a tattoo of a shamrock surrounded by black tribal ink. He then wets the torn cloth a little with the Guiness and wraps it over his injury.

((I had to think on this one all day cause I was not sure exactly who Sephr was pulling in behind))

Delinquent paused, his hand in mid air his fingers poised as though they delicately held a thin piece of wood. His eyes were fixed on the Vegas behind them, the vehicle having come from parts unknown and being rather absent of lights to indicate any enforcer affiliation. Delinquent pondered this new player, unsure of how to react to them. His normal and sadistic side would have him tell those in the back seat to unload on this vehicle. The thought of yanking the hand brake and pulling a 180 just so Delinquent could fire a few rounds off also went through his mind. Without a word Delinquent reached forward and turned off the police sirens that he had so been enjoying as they played chorus to the Bach on the radio.

This Vegas bothered Delinquent. He studded the vehicle, the headlights, the paint, the way the vehicle moved. There was a strangeness about it's presence that did not sit well with the wrestler. You see, Delinquent was crazy, but he was that outwardly kind of crazy. The kind that people crossed the streets to avoid, the kind that projected itself onto the world like a bad movie, the kind that people knew to avoid. But the unknown of this Vegas, it felt like the dangerous side of crazy. The side that did not let you know what it was capable of. It screamed of the crazy that would make friends with you, hang out with you, make you their best man, then kill you over the last beer in the fridge, but all with a smile.

"Anyone know what that is back there and can anyone give me a reason we should not shot them?" Delinquent watched the rear bumper of the junker ahead bump and dip over the roads of San Paro as he spoke. It was clear at this point that whatever enforcers had been back there the actions of the men that occupied these vehicles had proven to be to much for them. The only remaining issue for the rag tag group was the car trailing the Han Veo...

Still hanging halfway out of the front right window Nyte looked back to see this new threat in the darkness. A Vegas had pulled dangerously close to the Han Veo the men had stole. Curiously the headlights were out, purposefully or not was another question. The headlights looked intact from what Nyte could tell. Nyte tried to see the driver but it was too dark and the windows seemed tinted.

With the sirens off Nyte heard Del ask why we shouldn't shoot. Nyte slumped back inside the car which was still racing forward. "Well," he started "How bad do you wanna find out?" Nyte asked his driver.

"I don't like what I don't understand," Del muttered, "But I don't understand anything so that doesn't help."

Watching in the rear view Del stared for a moment and then did the only thing he felt was reasonable. Slamming on the brakes the vehicles tired howled in protest as the Han Veo slowed dramatically and sent the passengers sprawling forward. Del smiled as he watched the Vegas close the distance like a rocket, "Take him down."

He smirked at the Veo juttered to as the breaks locked up. Boy's go'emselfs some teef. Sephr said as he pulled his hand-brake, skidding the car to a halt sideways in the street. He had every intention of climbing out of the car with the tire-iron and bashing in every window of the Veo, just to get the point across that he's top dog; however the sirens that grew from far away told him that perhaps now wasn't the best time.

Looking back and forth between where he just came and where he was going he saw that he was in a sticky spot, not to mention it seemed like the teeth of the Veos' passengers were going in size as one of them looked to be pulling back on the slide of a gun and staring dead in his direction.

The mutt had to make a choice as his engine rumbled. One way was gunfire, the other could be more of the same but in certainty. Fuck't. He jammed down his accelerator and pulled the handbrake back as hard as he could, swinging the front end of his Vegas towards the Veo. Letting go he accelerated towards the poultry bunch with a grimace on his masked face. If he was going to get shot, at least let him get killed was a better choice than arrested.

"Take him down."

These were the only words he needed to hear. As the car rushed towards the Han veo, he pulled back and released the slide of the light machine gun, and with an evil grin that would rival death itself he unleashed a hail of gunfire.
The loud Chink! Chink! Chink! of the automatic weapon echoed through the area.

Dice was not accustomed to automatic weapons so his aim was a bit off, however for now he just went for the tactic of spray and pray. Round after round hit the front of the car behind them. But He could not tell if the driver had been hit or not.

The rounds kept flying and the car kept coming. "He is one persistent little bastard." Dice muttered to the passengers of the car.

"Hes gonna ram us" Nyte spoke, his voice drowned out by the semi-automatic fire. "Hes gonna ram us!" Nyte said again a little louder. "Hes going to fucking ram us!" Nyte shouted as he braced for the inevitable crash.

Mother fuck'r! he screamed as the hail of gunfire slammed into his car like angry wasps seeking vengeance for their brothers splattered on his windscreen. He had leaned down over the seats to keep driving by feel. Soon though the engine sputtered as head-covers split and carbeuators were blown apart. As he slowed the gunfire finally stopped, and the familiar hiss of an over-heated barrel could be heard. He had stopped dead next to the car he intended to follow, hitting them with just enough impact to jar him around in his seats.

Looking up from his sprawled out position in his seats Sephr adjusted his mask. He made eye contact with the shooter and let out a laugh as he greeted them. Yo. was all he could think to say. This situation had turned even more ridiculous to him, especially now that his precious baby was in shambles. Yinz got some sirens comin'. Y'know, those things tha'go 'whoop whoop'?

With his head down and his hands bracing the glovebox and side door Nyte heard a 'Thump' and jerked forward a few inches. "Heh heh" Nyte looked up embarrassed, but glad everyone was still in one piece. Leaning out of the window a second time Nyte saw the driver of the broken down Vegas. The masked figure was right, Nyte heard sirens in the distant. Growing louder by the second he guessed they couldn't be all that far. The man in the shot up car was definitely not an eforcer.

"So what now?" Nyte asked, loud enough for the man in the Vegas to hear as well.

He continued to laugh as he got out in response to the mans question. He began pushing his car backwards into an alley as it leaked vital fluids. Once he got it where he felt was right Sephr reached in and pulled on the hand-brake before turning and sitting on the hood. I'unno 'bout yinz, but I'd say fight, flight, or hide. Sephr said as he lit a cigarette and laid back onto the windscreen. To him this was every-day life, and he knew if they took off he would find all of them again. Be it by a grave-marker or on the streets.

Nyte looked at his pistol. "Well, I still got a full clip of ammo how's abaht yinz?" He looked at Dice, the unknown man sitting on the hood of his car, and then back at Del. Waiting for an answer Nyte called out, "What should we call you then, stranger?"

The sirens getting even louder.

"Well, I still got a full clip of ammo how's abaht yinz?"

"I've still got my pistol and two mags, but this .30 cal is spent." Tossing the weapon aside, Dice noticed the sirens growing ever closer. "But we're going to need some firepower, to waste all these enforcers on our ass."

Dice's eyes suddenly shifted to the Han Veo's trunk. "The damn car here, had a .30 cal in the backseat. Now I'm wondering what other goody bags are in the trunk."

Turning to the man leaning against his broken down car. "Sorry bout the car mate, but you look like you've lived here for a long time, like myself." Reaching into his coat pocket for bottle of pills, he unscrewed the cap and popped one into his mouth. "So you know, shit happens."

The red haired man simply shrugged and put his hands behind his head as he looked up towards the sky. The hood and windscreen seemed like it fit him well, being that it was a favorite place for him to sit and think. "Whatev'r. Name's Sephr, an' thanks f'the fun. Yinz ar'a bit quicker t'draw then I thought." He looked back down from the sky for a moment, watching them as they scurried for a plan of action.

"Sugges'that yinz get'a move on. Or some'thin." He simply pointed back the way they had all came, then laid back again looking up to the sky, the smoke from his nicotine stick wafting in the damp air.

Chainer wrote:"Sugges'that yinz get'a move on. Or some'thin." He simply pointed back the way they had all came, then laid back again looking up to the sky, the smoke from his nicotine stick wafting in the damp air.

Del took this as his que and began to move the Han Veo once more. Casually he pulled into a nearby parking garage and parked the vehicle in a space on the far side of the structure. Without a word he stepped out of the car and walked around to the man who Del had handed his .50 Cal earlier in that day. Taking the weapon from the man Del limped toward the street they had come from, using the rifle as a cain, and taking up a position of cover in the stairwell that ascended to the many levels of the parking garage above them.

"If we stay low we can hide out here," Del shouted from the stairwell, "And if they find us then we have an upper hand to fight them off."

Vic looks to the two in front, and begins to grin wildly at the sight of the alcohol. "Haha, I could use something to drink. Guiness too?...You both are definately Irish, a lively bunch I might add. Call me Vicarius, or Vic for short. Cheers."

"As Irish as Saint Paddy wit' a shamrock up 'is arse!" Redd laughed as raised his own Guinness in 'cheers' before taking a long swig.

Lupus casually tossed his emptied bottle out the window where it shattered against the street before glancing at the car behind them. "Shite... ya'd better stop Redd. Seems our mucks o' got ta problem." The Hans Veo swerved to a stop and began firing at something behind them.

Redd groaned in annoyance. "Tought American's was supposed ta be good at car chases... Hold on back der." Worried that the junky sedan wouldn't be able to take much more punishment, Redd did his best to slow down gradually until finally hitting the break and spinning them in the middle of the street. The engine groaned in protest but to its credit it held up.

"Oy!" The wiry Irishman yelled as they pulled up next to the other car, which was now being driven into a nearby parking garage. "What da hell are ya... oh." Down the street, a couple enforcer cars pulled into view. "We'll try an' lead some o' em away! We was headed fer 'Baker Pool Hall when we met ya so might as well meet us der when ya can. May Lady Luck fuk ya well tonight!" With another screeching of tires, the yellow sedan launched into an adjacent alley and sped off. Sliding onto another street, the sirens were still getting closer.

"Now either o' ya know where Baker Pool Hall is, by chance?" Redd asked the backseat with his cheek-scarred grin.

As the yellow sedan sped off down the street Nyte followed Del as he limped to a nearby stairwell. "A pool hall, huh? Must be important for them two Irishmen to travel allsa way here." Nyte said as he made a mental note of the place that was shouted to the group holding out in the once empty parking garage. "Baker Pool Hall"

Luckily the stairs were in a corner overlooking the sidestreet the sedan happened to speed down. Taking a quick glance Nyte saw most of the squad cars turn after them. Two vehicles however didn't, a regular patrol car and a Tactical Van. "I hope you find something good in the trunk Dice." Nyte called over his shoulder to the man still near the Han Veo. "Fuck!" Nyte spit as a sudden thought emerged in his head. "All squad cars have G.P.S. tracking! They must be following it right to us." Nyte hurried back to the car and checked on the fourth man who had been quietly sitting in the back seat.

((I am going to wait about 24 hours before I post again. Wana give some of the others a chance to get in there and get some RP glory))

"Why's everybody gotta fight?"
The words come from a weak voice somewhere below in the stairwell, shortly after Del's shout. It's the voice of a woman with a light Russian accent, sounding like she's already had her fair share of alcohol -and maybe something else- for the night. She's sitting on the floor against the back wall of the stairwell a flight below, looking out at the neon lights past the iron bars that make up the banister opposite of her. She has dark hair that falls a bit below the shoulders and gray-blue eyes, a pretty young thing who looks far more like she belongs in a house on a middle-class cul-de-sac with a white picket fence and a nice yard than in a parking garage stairwell with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"Nobody can ever sleep... in this city. It's always bang... bang... bang, all night long." She sets the bottle down, and there's a click-CLACK sound as she pulls back the slide on a handgun that was sitting next to her and lets it snap back into place, chambering a round. "Oh, and please don't shoot me... by the way. You won't last very long here if you try and have... a gun fight." She says weakly, pausing every now and then to take a deep breath. "My name's... Myra. I can help you get out of here, if you want."