Post by Terminally Chill on Jul 31, 2012 21:19:22 GMT -5
“Beck, huh? Is that what you're calling yourself now?”
The shabby man dressed in a suit let out a loud groan, dark-ringed eyes sluggishly opening from drunken slumber to make sense of unknown surroundings. A pounding headache and constant blur in his vision did little to help the bounty hunter known as Beck join the world of the living. A single hand clutched at his head in attempt to shake off the hellish hangover, bloodshot gaze taking in the rustic wood and brick that constructed whatever building he was resting against. The violent assault of the senses began to slowly subside, allowing him to recall through the storm of thoughts that he had ended up in Pecos by the end of the night. However, the hungover hunter had little concern for what town the alley he was in belonged to. A more interesting question was who the hell had woken him up at the “unreasonable hour.” Although it was morning and people had already taken to the streets, any hour was unreasonable to wake up after the rum-fueled rampage Beck had been on. His steely gray eyes squinted with uncertainty at a slim, dark-haired woman dressed in blue and white; the garb of a marine for certain. The woman could not help but giggle, amused at watching Beck progressively recover from the bender that was his life lately.
“Still hitting the bottle, I see.”
“Don't mind if I do...” Beck grumbled, dragging one of many nearby glass bottles across the ground and finding some comfort in the familiar swishing from within. The fighter pressed the bottle against his lips, taking a series of sizable gulps before letting out a refreshed sigh as though he had just taken a drink of crisp, cool water. But it definitely wasn't water. Wiping a dribble of rum with the back of his shirt sleeve, Beck looked to the woman with a greater sense of composure evident in his eyes. It seemed the few drinks of rum had done wonders in curing the effects of the previous night.
“What the hell do you want, Adie?”
“Oh, so you do recognize me.” The rather attractive marine could not help but look irritated at the greeting she had received from the bounty hunter. Some people never changed. “And that's Petty Officer Adelaide to you!”
“Well ain't you something special? Guess people from this town always did run off to the Navy. That's what you said, anyway...” Beck rolled his eyes, casting them to the side with disinterest as he took another swig of rum. There was a tense silence between the two, one that the warrant officer seemingly refused to break. “So what brings you back to the Wild West, Adie? Last I checked you were t –”
“Save it. I'm here on business. I wouldn't have come back here if I wasn't under orders. And I definitely wouldn't have come to see you.” Beck let out a snort, the poison already coursing through his veins having taken some of the edge of the stinging blow to his pride. “Anyway, looks like the Navy has a job for you.”
“A job? Well, get on with it then!” Usually any sort of “job” he picked up began with him walking into the bounty office and snatching the poster whichever ugly mug he felt like pounding into a pulp that day. For the Marines to send a messenger to request his services seemed to be a strange way of going about it.
“Since you asked so nicely...” Adelaide had to take a deep breath to compose herself, already reminded of whatever history there was between herself and the former prize fighter. “There's been some white-haired former bounty hunter causing trouble in the West. No idea what his name is, but he caused quite a stir in your old stomping grounds...”
“Pfft, Winchester? I don't give a damn about that place anymore.”
“Either way, he managed to kill a decent amount of marines, including a captain.” Beck raised a curious eyebrow upon hearing the last item on the list of the swordsman's deeds. There hadn't been a captain murdered around the west in a while, and definitely not by someone who managed to get out of it alive. “Needless to say, the Navy wants him dead.”
“So where the hell is the poster? And why are you coming to me specifically about this?”
“Along with no name, we don't even have a picture. But that's not the only reason; the story gets worse. I guess they had him on a ship or something to bring him in? Some pirate crew wrecked the ship – Saberooth Pirates I think – and the red-eyed bastard got away.”
“And?” Another swig was delivered to Beck's bloodstream, who at least seemed intrigued by the man's raw will to live. Although drunken stories tended to be a little more satisfying when you were the ones telling them, the boozed-up brawler kept his ears attentive.
“They want to keep it hush-hush. Pretty embarrassing... He originally worked for us, but then started this mess. The Navy seems fine broadcasting wars, but having some small-time bounty hunter cause them this much trouble isn't something they feel like getting out. It's easier if he just goes away.”
“Ha... And that's where I come in, huh?”
“Observant as always. Seems like you've made quite a name for yourself as a bounty hunter in the west. When they described who they needed me to talk to, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you.”
“Lucky you.” The remark flustered Adelaide for a moment as Beck took another drink, having crawled from the depths of his hangover with the help of his treasured lifeblood. “Dead, though? I usually get in trouble for that. Ain't taking no cut in rum...”
“You'll be paid in beri...? Anyway, this isn't your usual hunt. You'll be paid a lot more for this than any pirate you've brought in alive.” That seemed to have peaked Beck's interest, who was now making an effort to climb to his wobbling feet.
“You're right, that does sound like a lot of rum.”
“I didn't even say that?!”
“Any idea where our hotshot is?”
“Rumor has it that he's right here in Pecos.”
“That's convenient,” Beck turned his back to Adelaide, retrieving his suit jacket from the ground and shaking whatever back-alley grime had clung to it.
“We can't guarantee that, so if you take on this job you'll have to find him regardless of rumor.”
“As long as I'm getting paid. Got anything else besides 'white hair' and 'red eyes' for me?”
“Hmmmm... 'Big sword'? Like I said, no picture. But I mean, someone with the talents of Beck the Fighter shouldn't have any problem without a picture, right?”
Beck couldn't help but chuckle, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and ruffling it into place. After all, a man had to look good in his line of work. “Alright, I'll do it. Because you're right: the bottle has been running a little dry lately. ”
“Ugh, what?! Whatever!” Adelaide reached into the pocket of her white trousers, retrieving a small device. “Take this.” She tossed it toward Beck, who turned his head and managed to catch the foreign object with his free hand. Examining it closer, the bounty hunter recognized it as a baby Den Den Mushi. “Contact me after you've done what you need to do. They want his body as proof, though.”
Beck turned back to the wall, fiddling clumsily with the device before managing to attach it to his wrist beneath one of his sleeves. After a few more adjustments of his clothing, Beck took a loud glug before beginning to turn and face Adelaide.
“Sure thing. You know Adie, it wasn't that bad seeing... you...” The alcoholic assassin's words trailed off, an annoyed twinge evident in his stubbled face. “That woman...” Beck mumbled, reaching into his jacket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. A single stick of tobacco was pulled out with his mouth, a lighter soon replacing the carton and sparking up the cherry.
“Guess I should get started.” The bounty hunter took in a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling a smoky cloud into the warm morning air before stuffing his hand in his pocket and swaying into the daily bustle and clang of Pecos Town.
The hunt was on. [/size]
The shabby man dressed in a suit let out a loud groan, dark-ringed eyes sluggishly opening from drunken slumber to make sense of unknown surroundings. A pounding headache and constant blur in his vision did little to help the bounty hunter known as Beck join the world of the living. A single hand clutched at his head in attempt to shake off the hellish hangover, bloodshot gaze taking in the rustic wood and brick that constructed whatever building he was resting against. The violent assault of the senses began to slowly subside, allowing him to recall through the storm of thoughts that he had ended up in Pecos by the end of the night. However, the hungover hunter had little concern for what town the alley he was in belonged to. A more interesting question was who the hell had woken him up at the “unreasonable hour.” Although it was morning and people had already taken to the streets, any hour was unreasonable to wake up after the rum-fueled rampage Beck had been on. His steely gray eyes squinted with uncertainty at a slim, dark-haired woman dressed in blue and white; the garb of a marine for certain. The woman could not help but giggle, amused at watching Beck progressively recover from the bender that was his life lately.
“Still hitting the bottle, I see.”
“Don't mind if I do...” Beck grumbled, dragging one of many nearby glass bottles across the ground and finding some comfort in the familiar swishing from within. The fighter pressed the bottle against his lips, taking a series of sizable gulps before letting out a refreshed sigh as though he had just taken a drink of crisp, cool water. But it definitely wasn't water. Wiping a dribble of rum with the back of his shirt sleeve, Beck looked to the woman with a greater sense of composure evident in his eyes. It seemed the few drinks of rum had done wonders in curing the effects of the previous night.
“What the hell do you want, Adie?”
“Oh, so you do recognize me.” The rather attractive marine could not help but look irritated at the greeting she had received from the bounty hunter. Some people never changed. “And that's Petty Officer Adelaide to you!”
“Well ain't you something special? Guess people from this town always did run off to the Navy. That's what you said, anyway...” Beck rolled his eyes, casting them to the side with disinterest as he took another swig of rum. There was a tense silence between the two, one that the warrant officer seemingly refused to break. “So what brings you back to the Wild West, Adie? Last I checked you were t –”
“Save it. I'm here on business. I wouldn't have come back here if I wasn't under orders. And I definitely wouldn't have come to see you.” Beck let out a snort, the poison already coursing through his veins having taken some of the edge of the stinging blow to his pride. “Anyway, looks like the Navy has a job for you.”
“A job? Well, get on with it then!” Usually any sort of “job” he picked up began with him walking into the bounty office and snatching the poster whichever ugly mug he felt like pounding into a pulp that day. For the Marines to send a messenger to request his services seemed to be a strange way of going about it.
“Since you asked so nicely...” Adelaide had to take a deep breath to compose herself, already reminded of whatever history there was between herself and the former prize fighter. “There's been some white-haired former bounty hunter causing trouble in the West. No idea what his name is, but he caused quite a stir in your old stomping grounds...”
“Pfft, Winchester? I don't give a damn about that place anymore.”
“Either way, he managed to kill a decent amount of marines, including a captain.” Beck raised a curious eyebrow upon hearing the last item on the list of the swordsman's deeds. There hadn't been a captain murdered around the west in a while, and definitely not by someone who managed to get out of it alive. “Needless to say, the Navy wants him dead.”
“So where the hell is the poster? And why are you coming to me specifically about this?”
“Along with no name, we don't even have a picture. But that's not the only reason; the story gets worse. I guess they had him on a ship or something to bring him in? Some pirate crew wrecked the ship – Saberooth Pirates I think – and the red-eyed bastard got away.”
“And?” Another swig was delivered to Beck's bloodstream, who at least seemed intrigued by the man's raw will to live. Although drunken stories tended to be a little more satisfying when you were the ones telling them, the boozed-up brawler kept his ears attentive.
“They want to keep it hush-hush. Pretty embarrassing... He originally worked for us, but then started this mess. The Navy seems fine broadcasting wars, but having some small-time bounty hunter cause them this much trouble isn't something they feel like getting out. It's easier if he just goes away.”
“Ha... And that's where I come in, huh?”
“Observant as always. Seems like you've made quite a name for yourself as a bounty hunter in the west. When they described who they needed me to talk to, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you.”
“Lucky you.” The remark flustered Adelaide for a moment as Beck took another drink, having crawled from the depths of his hangover with the help of his treasured lifeblood. “Dead, though? I usually get in trouble for that. Ain't taking no cut in rum...”
“You'll be paid in beri...? Anyway, this isn't your usual hunt. You'll be paid a lot more for this than any pirate you've brought in alive.” That seemed to have peaked Beck's interest, who was now making an effort to climb to his wobbling feet.
“You're right, that does sound like a lot of rum.”
“I didn't even say that?!”
“Any idea where our hotshot is?”
“Rumor has it that he's right here in Pecos.”
“That's convenient,” Beck turned his back to Adelaide, retrieving his suit jacket from the ground and shaking whatever back-alley grime had clung to it.
“We can't guarantee that, so if you take on this job you'll have to find him regardless of rumor.”
“As long as I'm getting paid. Got anything else besides 'white hair' and 'red eyes' for me?”
“Hmmmm... 'Big sword'? Like I said, no picture. But I mean, someone with the talents of Beck the Fighter shouldn't have any problem without a picture, right?”
Beck couldn't help but chuckle, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and ruffling it into place. After all, a man had to look good in his line of work. “Alright, I'll do it. Because you're right: the bottle has been running a little dry lately. ”
“Ugh, what?! Whatever!” Adelaide reached into the pocket of her white trousers, retrieving a small device. “Take this.” She tossed it toward Beck, who turned his head and managed to catch the foreign object with his free hand. Examining it closer, the bounty hunter recognized it as a baby Den Den Mushi. “Contact me after you've done what you need to do. They want his body as proof, though.”
Beck turned back to the wall, fiddling clumsily with the device before managing to attach it to his wrist beneath one of his sleeves. After a few more adjustments of his clothing, Beck took a loud glug before beginning to turn and face Adelaide.
“Sure thing. You know Adie, it wasn't that bad seeing... you...” The alcoholic assassin's words trailed off, an annoyed twinge evident in his stubbled face. “That woman...” Beck mumbled, reaching into his jacket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. A single stick of tobacco was pulled out with his mouth, a lighter soon replacing the carton and sparking up the cherry.
“Guess I should get started.” The bounty hunter took in a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling a smoky cloud into the warm morning air before stuffing his hand in his pocket and swaying into the daily bustle and clang of Pecos Town.
The hunt was on. [/size]