In search of the Nepalese Tiger

December 28, 2014: Veruca and Damian share some words before their mission.

Location Undisclosed



  • <Name of NPC or "None">
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Mood Music:

The black helicopter hums softly as it flies over the region-above the darkened mountains and inky black abyss' of their crevices.

Damian sits in a room, across from Veruca. His legs are tangled together and his eyes are closed, and his breathing is slow and measured.

Their mission?

A man-a superhero really-going by the name of the Nepalese Tiger has begun to inhibit all sorts of his grandfather's activities. In a few hours, Damian was sure that this 'hero' would be no more.

Their orders were simple, do away with the heroic menace and come back with his head.

The last part is subjective, but if it was really necessary, she would come back with his head. Or fingers. Or toes, anything to make the two men happy. T'was her will now, for the most part, but she remained free to do whatever she will to cause the most mayhem and to upset the balance. The scale was tipped to far in their favor.

Across from Damian, she stares, feet planted upon the seat she's taken up, legs spread with a nice, oakwood guitar planted in the middle; neck upright, long fingers plucking an slow samba with each inhale he took.

Slow. And measured.


Damian begins to smile faintly as the strumming of her guitar interrupts his meditation. It's accepted. Welcomed even.

"I like the way you play," he says, his voice with a slight gravel to it, the kind when you haven't spoken for a while and haven't cleared your throat. "Where did you learn?" he asks, eager to find out more about this mysterious woman.

Damn. She was hoping to invoke his ire. Though, it wasn't as if she were playing a flat note, her fingers moved as she willed.

She stops for but a moment to allow him to speak, her gaze drawing along the back of the guitar as she gives it a turn to rest it within her lap. "During my time in Venezuela." She answers easily, fingers drumming lightly along the notes. "I spent my time there with a small time drug lord, who hoped to be among one of the greats. But he didn't know that I was to put him in a position to be arrested and detained." She shakes her head a little. "Took a long time. Spent most of it with his favorite mariachi band. Learned to play on a jaranas at first."

Her fingers draw away from the strings, palm laying flat to cease the cords. "Did I interrupt you?"

Damian chuckles.

"You're not an interruption, Veruca. And you never will be. Tell me more about how you doublecrossed your ally."

A brown eye peeks open at her. "I'd like to hear more about my future."

Her head tilted slightly, brows lowering. "Do you think that I will do the same to you?" Perhaps maybe. Maybe.

The guitar is set aside, a little smile drawn upon her lips as she gives a point of one finger. "Money." Plain and simple. "Most of those who are in business to 'rule the country' or seek to 'rise in power' always have a need of it. And will do whatever they can to get to it. And they are impatient. "My keepers looked to set up a sister city in Venezuela but saw that this man, this small time man would have ruined their operations in the future. So I was sent there on the retainer that I would ensure that his books were properly maintained and each bill that went in illegally, came out legal. Of course, it wasn't."

Her legs soon cross, arms drawing along the back of the seat. "There may or may not have been a paper trail that led to payment for over one hundred murders including a government official or may or may not have been on that list." A smile was given then. "Boring. Right?"

Damian's mouth widens in a grin. "It sounds absolutely enthralling. Why were you in Venezuela in the first place?" After he asks the question, he finally opens both eyes, which rest upon her as she sits cross legged on the bench seating.

"How did you end up in America? And how did you get such intense feelings about the hypocrisy of heroism?"

"Vacation. A girl needs a chance to let down her hair once in a while. Even if the spot was less than savory." She smiles, then carefully stands to take up the seat next to him. For some reason, his staring started to unnerve her. "You know how I wound up in America. It was Barbosa's will, even if I did try to advise him to let you come to us. The Hand or no, he never listened to counsel. He figured the home advantage would throw everyone off their game."

Though, where her feelings were concerned, she took a moment to think on that one. "Heroes.. they often put themselves above the norm. They figure as long as they do good, they are above us, and everyone else. They destroy and often ruin lives while they return back to their posh sofas and homes that are well in tact, they rescue the damsels and toss them aside eventually for new and greater prospects. They smile and pose in pictures while kissing babies and ignore the fact that.. maybe, just maybe they've done something and had gotten someone killed in the interim. Being a hero means you get other people killed, heroes have no conscience when it comes to unknown and shared casualties. They're ignorant, they don't see both sides of the coin. And most need punishing for it."

Damian smiles, "I like your ideas. I tend to agree with them. I've found that many of the heroes that I've come across seem to be less humane than the normal people I've met."

He looks over towards her. "It bothers you when I look at you. Why?"

She grins. "They're just ideas. Spoken aloud to get them to think. To think about us and the lowers before they're dead."

She shifts a little in her seat, her own icy blues drawn to his. There was a thought, but tossed away almost immediately. "I'm unsure. But when I know, I'll tell you."

Damian frowns, "I apologize. You must understand that I am still a young man. A young man not exposed to much of what the world has to offer." He lowers his eyes a bit, and nods. "I understand that it must be disconcerting, and I will do my best not to make you uncomfortable."

She nods slowly. "You've made that clear to me on one occasion." There was a little smirk there, but then her expression grows serious. She reaches over towards him, cupping his chin with delicate fingers to direct his attention back upon her. "Don't seek forgiveness when you look at me, even if it's for a second. I spent my entire life doing things that would be uncomfortable to most and I've learned to shut it out, just like I will now." She smiles a little, then lets go if she had him.

"Besides Little Bird, you exude confidence. At times you've acted as if you conquered the world already and are bored."

Damian chuckles at her, his head in her hands. "In some ways, I already have." He pauses and then finally responds, "But it is not my wish to unnerve you." He pulls his head away now, long curly locks snare in her finger nails as he does.

"And I shall do as I please."

He stands, strolling away from her, and looks to a weaponry rack on the far wall. "Tell me. How would you like to kill this Nepalese Tiger?"

Her fingers flex for a moment to grasp a bit of his hair, then leans back upon the chair as she had done before, arms drawing along the back, one knee crossed over the other, taking up a more masculine setting than before. "Well aren't you fiesty." She's grinning widely now, her foot bouncing just a little as she considers the rack.

"Guns.. swords.." She considers, then idly shrugs her shoulders. "Lets do it with our bare hands."

"Would it upset you too much if I watched you? For some reason, I think I would enjoy it." Damian turns towards her with a raised eyebrow. "Remember what we learned. This man can turn into animals; ferocious and fast. And he will have help. Do not be tricked."

She shakes her head. "No. I thought that when we went into this agreement I would do the work for you." The work? Killing.

She nods now, then pushes herself to her feet. Perhaps killing the man without weaponry would be a terrible idea, and she didn't live her 22 years by being wreckless. "Swords then. No. Two katanas." She reaches up to stroke her chin in thought, her head tilting just a little to the side. "And ten throwing daggers."

"Take what you wish. We'll have four men with us, plus me. I don't anticipate any significant problems." Damian looks to the watch he wears on his arm; only for these sorts of missions. "It's not long now."

She begins to suit up, lining the weaponry upon her leathers that wrap around her body light tight bondage. "Mask, or nah?" She asks, a little grin upon her face as both katanas were taken, and placed upon her back marking X as the sweet spot. Once she finishes fitting the last of the daggers upon her person, she turns to face him now, hands gripping the thick of her hair to tie it into a knot upon her head. "Are you sure we need the calvary? I could do this on my lonesome." She takes a step closer, then leans in to kiss his cheek. "Try not to die again."

"Your choice. I don't much care; I have mine. And you're building a name for yourself these days," A drawer slides out and Damian grasps the new mask his grandfather fasioned for him. As she kisses his cheek, he chuckles. "I won't allow anyone else to get close enough to me to do it. That one was special."

"Mm.." She mutters, then drags a mask from the rack to wrap it around her face. It was easily attached, strapped around the back of her head with a quick twist and pull, her eyes left open which soon, as she gazes towards Damian, bleeds black.

"Why was it special? Dreaming about me, were you?" Her brow lifts to fashion a brief wink, then glances down towards the mask. "Nightmare. That should be your new name."

"It showed me a new path. And the folly of my old one. Eventually you'll come to double cross me, but it's not hidden. That's just the way it is and it is accepted. These boys and girls I used to run with, the Titans? They stabbed me in the back continually, yet pretend that they're something different. The whole experience was really eye opening." Damian begins to strap on his mask, becoming the nightmare that Veruca mentions.

She didn't laugh at him. As much as she wanted to laugh at his words, she didn't. "Absurd." She states cooly, voice muffled through her own mask. "I will not double cross you. You asked me by your side as your Ubu. Loyal to you and you alone. Granted, it's not given just yet, it takes time. But once you have it, you will to the very day you die." One eye squints. "Though death for you and yours is subjective. As well as your loyalty to the path, as of now."

She turns now, both hands reaching to grip the handle to test the sheath upon her back.

"I'll never double cross you, as long as you do not do the same for me. Don't bother with the course, or path. Stay true to yourself. Blah. Blah. Blah." Hands withdraw and line the door now, her head lowering as she takes a few deep breaths in preparation. "Don't be the death of me, Little Bird."

"I will not," Damian says, now his voice muffled and robotic. "Instead I will give you a life you've never imagined."

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