Kill Bruce

Summary:
August 13, 2014: A stranger meets Rant (Melody) at the Tin Roof Club to talk business, Catwoman marks her territory in more ways than one.

The Tin Roof Club

A club where people go to get drink and scratched.


Characters

NPCs

  • Keith
  • Random Body Guards

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fc3LGzNEkL0


A weird looking stranger enters into the club with an interesting proposition…

"I want to make someone important gone, and I'm not afraid to pay big dollars for it to happen" The Eraser explains with a bit of a smile, looking over towards the glass of gin, with his friendly expression. "I was hoping to get word out to some professionals," He adds on taking a sip from the glass, the scar running across his eye and mouth making for a rather interesting focal point on his face.

His words causes her to flinch. Okay, she's only dealt in death in once, yet it was pure coincidence and a horrible, horrible accident. Her hand reaches up to lightly rub at her face, considering her options. She's not one to rat out someone, that would be bad for business, but.. this was just terrible. "Um.. Okay.." Maybe this guy deserved it, he could be a total asshole and waste of space, then she'd be -sorta- happy to comply. She'd feel bad about it, for maybe a day, then move on with her life. "So um.. yeah. We got that you're willing, just tell me who and what you want said message to say.."

The Erasers words sound pungent and rather intentionally brutal, that fire of revenge in his dark brown eyes "Bruce Wayne, he murdered my wife, and ruined my entire life,". He takes a rather large swig of Gin, looking towards the small stack of money on the table. "Twenty million dollars for his head, extra if he suffers first,"

Melody was totally glad she wasn't drinking any water. The shock of the name and the ire that spilled from this mans lips had her face drain of all color. She wasn't going to start shaking, no. But a quick glance up towards Keith and a quick smile let him know that she was alright. "Okaay.." Deep breath in, deep breath out. Man, she thought Bruce Wayne was totally awesome! But, if someone killed her parents or someone she actually loved (which is very few and far in between), she'd probably want to play a game of bullet to the face too.
She gets to work silently, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes closing yet.. it was obvious that they were moving back and forth beneath her lids. Her hands reach out for her laptop which opens, fingers finding the keys as she begins to work on both ends. She stops abruptly, eyes snapping open to narrow lightly upon the frightening man, "5 million. For me that is. Before I send it." Hey, it was a shot in the dark, but.. Mels wanted to be a millionaire. Sort of.

"Five million just to place an add?" He shotguns the rest of the gin, looking right into the woman's eyes, that fire of vengeance still burning strong "I've been in this business long enough to know appropriate compensation" He taps the cash in his hand onto the table shifting it all into a neat little stack.
Drat! No one ever falls for that! Couldn't hurt a girl for trying? Right? Melody shakes her head, then leans forward to pull the money towards her, her fingers tapping along the top of the stacked bills, lost in a little bit of thought. She was debating really, on if she should send the message or not. She just.. always thought that Bruce Wayne was such a cool dude. And rich. She was going to have to do some research. But first. "Fine. There are some rules there after." She states, still tapping away. "You've never met me. You were never here, you did this on your own without any help. Okay? Forget my name, my face, and this place. Never come back here again. I know that sounds harsh but.." Those were the breaks. Especially when it comes to participating in a murder. "I need more details, how are they going to contact you once the job is done."

"Give whoever finishes the job this phone, and have it dial the last number that called it," He adjusts the glass so that it's in the perfect center of the table exactly adjusting the small napkin set in front of him to be at an exact 60 angle, before he passes over a rather old disposable phone that looks like it's been sitting around since the nineties to Melody "They will say 'Hello this is Mr.Black, your car has come in,' then I will transfer payment to their account," He looks back with a smile, adding on "Simple as,"

Well fuck, she didn't want to meet the person who'd be doing the killing. But she was being paid for it. She reaches out for the phone to take, then sets it atop of her money, which was soon taken and placed within her lap. Her eyes close again, performing that same movement, hands returning to the keyboard to tippity tap away and then stop. It was the moment of truth, she didn't broadcast the message just yet, she was building up the nerve. Her thumb soon finds her teeth, the nail bitten rather nervously as she looks up towards Keith again, and then the door. "Fuck it." She mutters to herself, then presses the enter key. The message was now on the cloud in the deep. And she instantly regretted it.
With the push of the button that was that, his job offer sent. He'd barely saved up almost enough for the 20mil, and for this to work he would need to do only a few more jobs in the time it took to kill the playboy billionaire. Making sure his tie was perfectly straight Eraser offers a small word of reassurance "Trust me when I tell you, that you will never see this face again,"

The reflective lights and the way they beam across the place seems to shift artfully, purposefully, the reformed warehouse a completely open space for movement and to cater to exactly what the Tin Roof club is meant for. Partying, imbibing, indulging, and to hear /everything/ if you knew exactly how to listen. The dancefloor is open and alit, the spotlights criss crossing and leaving it only lit by the underlit floor, leaving a vacant spanse between the exit and where the duo were making a fools gamble. One far deeper then this Club is used to seeing swept across its tables.

The footfalls can be heard coming across the dance floor, booted and purposefully heel-toe with the hissing drag of an article drawn behind her in that slow trail.

Once rant hits enter the audible *crack* cuts through the air between the duo and knocks her laptop from the space in front of her if she does not grab it quickly.

"You are doing bad business in the wrong side of town…" The voice croons forth, red stained lips framed in the black leather of her mask curling into a sneering smile that emphasises the hiss on the edge of those words.

The crack of the whip had her jumping. Her laptop flew off of the table and cracked to the ground, immediately shorting out. Usually, Melody would have screamed bloody murder but this time, she was all silent, limbs shaking. Her eyes didn't even narrow, she knew exactly where that had came from and she found herself completely screwed. The pooch. It was totally done and well cooked, and she had nothing to say for herself. Shoulders raise high to connect to the lobes of her ears, her gaze averted in shame, bottom lip bitten to hide the wail of grief of what she had done.. and her laptop. Her trusted, lovely laptop. Which would be fixed later, but still! That hurt.

On the outside the man in his yellow pinstriped suit that makes him look a bit like a number 2 pencil is the picture of calm, not letting it phase him one bit to keep his cover held well. On the inside he very much just wants to run from the building at top speed, hop right back into his bright yellow car, and speed off. He looks calmly over towards the source of the loud crack speaking in a subdued German accent. "I thought this would be the perfect side of town to get a bit of advertising done," The scar across his face is really a central feature of this rather long haired brown eyed man, he doesn't look too amused by what's just happened, but he turns back to face the woman who he'd just finished dealing with. "I'm assuming that the submission was sent regardless? Or will I have to ask for a return of the finances?"
Catwoman has partially disconnected.

The whip recoils ad slices through the air silently to return back into her hand, much like a western show she now swings the end, those eyes indiscernable behind the tint of goggle lenses but she is zeroed in on them both as her slow pace carries her with a predatorial feline fluidity in an arching path around them.

*Whishh*

"You are not from here."

*Whish-whishhh*

"East End is mine."

*whhh-whhh-whhh—*

Her wrist is barely flicking but that whip is progressingly getting faster in its propelling.

"The crime here, falls on me and does not pass without my judgement."

*shh-whhsshh-whh-sshh*

"You do this in my home, you simply have no idea…"

And without another hesitation Catwoman is lunging for the Stranger, that whip cracking out and upward in an attempt to ensnare him in it for the follow through.
The edges of the whip kept Melody's attention until it was off the table and away from her, her body stiff as a board and ready to bolt given the opening. She had places to go, but each place Selina knew with a fine tooth comb because Melody wanted it that way. So, screwed she was. Probably lost a friend she did. Goddamn she was going to go crawl into a hole she will.
"Uh.. yeah?" Is all Mels could really say to the stranger. She had to play this one close to the vest. If she was going to get out of this clean, she had to make a counter offer towards Selina. One that'll make what she did all the more worth it.
Her words cut through even though it wasn't aimed at her, at least she doesn't think it was, and with a quick movement, she reaches out to snag the shot glass from the table. That lunge was her cue to get the fuck out of dodge, her body becoming a limp wet noodle of nerdy escape to slide from the leathery booth bench and onto the floor. Underneath the table would be her spot until she could flee upstairs to the quarters like a child running from the belt.

The German man only calmly moves his hand, grabbing a cigarette, looking for all intents and purposes to be perfectly calm, as Catwoman charges at him. He looks right at her, not moving otherwise as he's caught, with little effort. A small grin is offered, as he says rather calmly. "My, this is interesting," Of course he still wants to run off screaming crying, or to even flinch, but he's so terrified that if he shows any weakness it won't only blow his cover but spell his death.
That whip will leave marks, and at the impact she had revved it too…. He'll likely be nursing welts and wounds. So Catwoman simply closes that gap with a brute force, hilding the hilt of the whip in a clutch that gleans the silver edge of claws that tip each digit.

"I'd say so." She states, coolly assessing him as he stood there shockingly unmoving, her other hand coming up to caress along his cheek if he does not shy away, the claws barely tapping over the stretched flesh of his scar.

"Who is your employer? Because I have a message I want you to relay to him." The smile plaguing along her lips is none too friendly.

The goal remains. Get away, and try not to pee. She did have a tall glass of iced water that cooled the tongue and filled the bladder. Ayup, her 'work' was done here. And upon hand and knee, the laptop was snatched up, tucked underneath her arm as she begins to slowly crawl away. Inch, by flippin' inch.

Whoever this man is he's doing a damn fine job of forcing away the sheer pain of the moment, just to glare right into her eyes with that kind of hatred that one could expect from a trained killer, not just a man in a tacky pinstriped suit. He asks rather calmly, "What's the message?", not shying away from her as he just looks towards her.

He didn't shy away? Not even when those fingers dared tread along the tender skin of his face? Catwoman had to give him props, props she is counting down lightly along the line of his jaw with claw tipped fingers, the smile fading bit. by. bit.

The lights still flickered in the backdrop, the streamlined beams criss crossing again across the dance floor and the once occupied booths are slowly emptying with every flicker of the strobing lights.

It is sudden and sharp and if the Stranger does not move yet again, that hand that could have been a mother's caress draws back and sweeps that bladed effigy of the angered feline across his face, simultaneously the whip crumpling from his form and snaps out to unforgivingly crack down upon Melody if she keeps in her path of fleeing.

"Never again in MY home." The message to them both.

So close, she was clearing the table, her butt raised high in the air as she shuffle-scramble-shuffles towards the stairs. She really didn't get that far, the sound of the whip cracking heard first, then a gust of air, and searing hot pain there after. She wasn't wearing her bomber jacket this time around, a simple punk T-shirt beater that one would wear around their house was split open to reveal flesh and that line of blood. Unforgiving, sho' you right.
It took only a second for it to start hurting, her body immediately flattening upon the floor as she lets out a hellish scream. Okay, she got the message! Totally got it!

Not even a flinch as the claws slash across his face, the man in yellow pulling out his arms. He really really was not expecting that, and he may have almost pee'd himself but at least his mask is going to protect him from any real damage. Though his face does make an odd scraping sound of metal on metal as she claws across it the mans face looking enough like he got hit by the strike, but that oddity of a sound. Cracking out his ligaments this man looks like he's a real professional just to take it like a man, blood dripping down his face. "Message received" He confirms placing his hands inside of his pockets and turning back to face the girl he'd given payment to a moment earlier.

"No, I don't think so…" Catwoman states as she glimpses down to her claws with a brow lightly raised beneath that mask. "Get out."

The two words spoken now have the Club's security bearng down arms with a resounding…

*Click*

*Clack*

*Tch- chuck*

Chambers loaded Keith even stands at Melody's front, just over the screaming woman.

Even when in pain, Melody was a shy girl. There were a few things that she knew she could do in front of people without them knowing she could do it, and other things she wouldn't do because it was completely blatant. Her back hurt so much that curling into a ball would actually make her bawl all the more, and yet, she continues to allow herself to suffer out of this shyness. The strangers presence was keeping her from healing herself.
She still tried to inch away though, for fear of being hit again or trampled upon, her head knocking right into the shin of Keith which was soon grabbed and wrapped around for support. Hopefully, the big dude doesn't have to move and chase to shoot, cause she'd probably get a broken jaw from his effort.

Making his way for the exit, Eraser rubs the side of his face with one hand double checking his tie with the other. He uses his cane to help himself along trying to get out at as good a pace as a man with a cane really can. He's doing a fairly good job of keeping his cool at least, but as soon as he makes it out of there and too his car, he plans on getting a nice change of pants, and spending a nice long time in the shower, maybe have himself a nice cry with an ice pack over his wounds.


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