Mission 22: Diamonds in the Ruff

[dravocn]

It was a rather brisk day for the typically dry and hot island of Resinbar. Which meant that the temperature was about sixty five degrees fahrenheit minimum, including wind chill. The sort of island that it was, resembling a desert country full of cacti and tumbleweeds, took the temperature rather curiously. For something rarely below eighty, the people were finding themselves shivering and unprepared. Their sun kissed skin coated in goosebumps, assuming the rare chill as a bad omen. 

In a strange and rather dank place called Snooker Town, where the people are feared and hated for their rudeness and regular criminal activity, a man dressed in fine clothes entered a bar. The classic western 'stranger enters the saloon' scene ensues as he entered through the swinging doors. He tipped his black Stetson as he greeted the folk giving him the stink eye, paying no mind to the clear predatory disdain for his ilk being around these parts. He wore a nice white velvet dress shirt, under a walnut brown canvas double breasted vest. He wore some black dress slacks with a black belt and pretty silver belt buckle to match. His boots were grey snake printed old western style boots where their extended top was tucked neatly under his pant legs. He looked like he fit in, but with a flair of fashionable style that was unlike most of the western style criminals that populated this saloon.

He took his Stetson off his head happily as he took a seat at the bar, ordering two whiskeys, dry. The bartender kept his eyes on the strange man as he put the glass he was cleaning down to get him a glass of whiskey. His hand placing the two glasses down rather hard, and ignoring the four men that were encroaching on the stranger.

"What's a fancy pants pansy like you doing in this town?" one of the particularly gruff looking men said, glaring at the stranger like he just spat in his food.

"You feeling like giving us good ol' folks a bit of that money, boy?" another asked as he twiddled a toothpick in his mouth.

The stranger simply smiled as he handed them each a glass of whiskey. "I'm a businessman looking for a client. Any of you fine fellers looking for a new best friend?" he asked with a chuckle, his feminine facial features being a strong contrast to his surroundings and the men

[Phantasma]

    Compared to the rest of Resinbar save for the likes of Whisky Town the scenery offered in Snooker City were undeniably modern. Aged wood exchanged for far more permanent brick and mortar, lights powered by electricity to illuminate buildings and the overhanging of back doors shaded by alley's. This same artificial lighting often illuminated the foot traffic, the movement of the cities denizens which only seemed to multiply the further the sun drooped below the sky. Currently that meant very few folks were meandering the well walked streets with wide open brick laden paths for carriages and all manner of nonautomotive transport. A particular chill swept over the city, the clouded sky looked even more discouraging than days prior and cast a sort of muggy lighting onto the cityscape below. It was enough that many people sequestered inside either as part of a job or home body often looked out their windows, frowning and furrowing brows.

    Superstition wasn't particularly well rooted here, but this city was foul. Ignored only thanks to the near constant traffic it offered the island. A sheriff was nary in sight, it would meant a bounty hunter of all things would likely be unwelcome and an even rarer sight.

    "Pardon me Miss," Kite bowed his head a bit as he allowed a woman to exit what was likely an apartment building.

    Situated close to the docks like it was the little nameless place was only one story, arches hanging over the doors while a plain boring tan yellow stained the walls. Contrasted against the geometric and rhythmic brick that broke apart seamless color. A literal box that left nothing to the imagination with prison bar like windows jacked right up against glass panes. In direct opposition the fair gal walking past Kite was wearing her sunday best in a very literal way-- a habit or some kind of religious outfit was draped entirely over her from head to feet. Holding an unmistakable browned book close to her chest, golden cross glittering in the light. Given a fleeting smile and nod the Sister went off towards what Kite could only suspect was where a church was.

    'Good luck to you and me both,' Kite closed his eyes for the width of a second before marching on following the building to its right side and cutting across a walkway that snaked around the road.

    The buildings lots and roads were roughly broken up to house four or so buildings in one square while the roads circulated around it. From the distant gallop Kite could tell this was done to afford more consistent travel time, so things weren't sandwiched. A stereotypical western town was after all just a straight line from end to beginning.

    Looking ahead the white haired bruiser did well to avoid the shadows stirring in the dark of building eaves and balconies. Cat calls, whistles and grunts were like empty threats to the monolithic shape of Kalisto who could hardly conceal the urge to roll his eyes reminding himself that would've just been a signal. A far more brisk pace given it wasn't long before he found his target juxtapositioned between what looked to be a barber shop judging from the spiraling and spinning red, white glassed cylinder affixed to the outside. The other building to the left was some kind of deli, window thoroughly stacked with hanging meats that drifted out onto the street with their pleasant aromas. Shaking his head and reminding himself of his current goal Kite walked across the street and parted the little wooden flaps that acted as a door to the saloon.

    A relic of a far more recent, but ultimately outdated time.

    Taking either hand off the curved wooden saloon doors after parting them the hunter was quick to pocket his gloved hands.

    Compared to a certain someone, who dressed for the occasion, Kite was like the presence of a huckle bearer. Dark black outfit lined with deep, royal red that flashed out from the inside nearest to the white undershirt and the pits of the flank. Pinstriped, paired with dress shoes and dress gloves. Ascot and brooch proper. It was like the markings of a monarch butterfly compared to its less brilliant cousins, the effect being our albino looking red eyed fiend was more of a sore thumb.

    All it really took was a click of the tongue and a glare to silence whatever gripe was going to come from the room. Hardly a glance was sacrificed to the smiling gentleman at the bar even if Kite was soon enough to sit at the wooden post folding his hands over it and nodding at the barkeep with a curt kind of jerk of his chin.

    Taking a step back from the counter and turning around to clean some glasses the keep was very obviously in on some sort of game perpetrated by Kalisto. Maybe even leaving Drav in the dark? It certainly brought a kind of ominous tension into the room which only increased the further those tiny little whines of fabric on shot glasses cried out.

    "Mark Edelborough. You're a very hard person to pin down, frankly I'm p-ssed it took me this long. Might not be nice enough to let you finish that drink," Looking to his left at a somewhat bewildered and quickly on his feet criminal.

    Unlike his buddy which wore a combination of a dark vest, deep blue jeans and darker chaps muddled with silver metals and spurs this guy took the opposite approach. Crisp, clean blue long sleeved shirt encapsulated in a leather brown vest with a red neckerchief around his scrawny limb of a neck. Dark black pants ran down his spindly legs stopping just above the knee where new coffee colored boots protected a good part of his shins and feet. Decorated with serpent like scales the ensemble looked more impressive than his partner, the lack of a hat was explained by his sudden rise with the article falling off and thumping on the ground. It was simple, worn, torn and of a like shade to his vest.

    "L-little john get a load of this foreigner. Thinks he can just scare me like that!" The pale faced, ordinarily tanned blond chided tilting his head back and downing the shot glass before slamming it down forcing a reverb in the bar and even getting the keep to flinch.

    He cleaned at a newer pace which sounded like kittens mewling, only distorted.

    "Best," Before he could spit out an ill attempt at a threat Kite circled his left hand around to Mark running fingers through blond hair and hitting his whole head against the strip of a table forcing cups, ash tray and ashes to lightly jump up in the air before landing safely.

    Strong enough to avoid even convulsions the speed alone was blinding. Much like thunder sound was delayed, lagged behind the attack.

    The hollow thud and force of the impact was evident in how Mark now hung limply with his arms swinging beneath him while his eyes were firmly rolled up into his head. Tongue out on the bar and a groan echoing out of the cave of his mouth Kite retracted his hand and rung his hands together clapping them and dislodging whatever hair clung to his material. Unlike the two, or now one other man the entire time Kite had this eerie calm about him.

    Red eyes hung lazily open, a thin frown marked upon his face. Not even a flinch before or after the impact.

    Dusting off his lap while strolling around over Mark Kite took his right hand out of his pocket. Flicking a single coin, a Beri, up to the counter and into the waiting palm of the now shaking bar keep. A young man, a very nervous type who had to take the little visor kept over his face to hang over his eyes to stop starring. A gambling vest, a fancy sort of garment atop his chest rippled while puffy white sleeves hid what were likely jiggling arms.

    "At ease. Was only after Mark, I'm particular about my targets... and about wasting my time. Stop staring around sheesh. I let him finish his drink didn't I? Not like I'm a complete monster," Kite closed his eyes with a snarl to his frown vented out a sigh clearly annoyed at the pure tension radiating in the room.

    "That means you too. Sit. Drink." Kite opened his eyes and shot back a red glare at Little John who had in a hurry drawn a gun only to pause when at a cross roads.

    A wicked tool of silver, from looks alone it was a kind of revolver with a barrel as long as the largest of pointer fingers. A white shade painted onto the grip of the gun.

    Whether by force of will or intimidation the man grew silent and with a rather distant nature to his eyes went back to nursing his drink at the bar. Friend hurtled over the right shoulder of the grimmest of guests, one that was quick to march towards the saloon doors.

    In place of music, whispers followed Kalisto.

    "You. Guy sitting at the bar that doesn't have a gun... Yea, you. Be friendly in some other town, this place is infested and dangerous. Mark here isn't the only person with a bounty, just one of the easier-- well. Marks," Kite looked over his shoulder fleetingly in the drifters general direction.

[dravocn]

The room was quiet for a bit, a sudden stillness in the air as a sharply dressed dashing fellow entered the building. A grin grew on his face that simply widened the already seemingly permanent smile on his face. His shiny whites exposed as he felt the room grew to a still at the presence of the stranger. Even the men who had been offered a drink had stopped their trains of thought to hold their undivided attention on the man. The broker however did not watch, instead he listened and used his other senses to occupy himself.

The new stranger had come for someone, the fact that he decided to come here in in what was essentially a criminal base of all places was either brave or stupid. Based on the delayed cracking sound like thunder off in the distance, it seemed he was simply confident, and rightly so. It seemed the stranger was a bounty hunter, and rather than taking this entire town in to collect their bounties, he simply plucked one out of them. Apparently a particularly difficult man to find. Perhaps this criminal had a ship if he was so difficult to catch, possibly crew? He had a friend with him... things to ponder later. For now he was more focused on the stranger.

Perspective is such an interesting thing. A man can say one thing and everyone in the room can interpret it vastly different from another. For example, a man can tell another that he should make nice somewhere else as the current surroundings were less than kind. The receiving man could take a suggestion of preference and opinion as an offense or a slight against him, or perhaps more strangely, he could interpret it as rather kind and protective despite not an ounce of care in the voice, simply focusing on the words. The broker took the latter, thinking it rather sweet that he cared much at all about a stranger like him.

Of course like a gentleman, he turned to face the person speaking to him, this would accomplish a few things although minor. One being that he gets to continue being a gentleman like he prefers to be. Another being that he can catch a glimpse of the one warning him. This way he can essentially follow the suit clad man in pursuit of entertainment, as well as to concede to the recommendations of moving elsewhere. As, if this man thought so badly of this area, then he must have better ideas to make further connections with the underworld, yes?

The broker had this excitement building in him that he simply just had to follow. He figured he'd make connections elsewhere as suggested and get in touch with his other contacts later. First, he wanted to get to know this Oh so wonderful bounty hunter. An info broker and a bounty hunter sounds like they'd get along swimmingly, wouldn't it? So the broker hopped off his seat and placed about, two whole rounds worth of beri on the table for the bartender, enough to give everyone in the building two rounds, not just one person. Afterward he trotted his happy horse out of the saloon and tried to catch up with the stranger.

Now, he could have just stalked him and kept an eye on him from a distance, but there were plenty of reasons why that wouldn't work. One, even normal people would notice they're being followed in a wide open strip that was the old western town this place mimicked. Two, if he was strong, he probably had a very reflexive and rather hostile reaction to such tactics, just by instinct and training alone. Three... he has no intention to be hostile toward the bounty hunter, nor an interest in getting on his bad side or giving a poor impression. This is an activity of interest and possibly business opportunity after all. It's bad form to go about stalking and spooking if not outright pissing that potential off.

So being the man he was, and that rapid half second long deduction process being done with. He stood beside the man happily and started to walk with him. "Greetings, I appreciate the advice you gave me back there." he said happily, his voice a pleasant contradiction in itself. It was sweet and serene, like a traditionally brewed herbal tea, yet carried the heat and subtle command as well. A voice with a mix of sweet, serene, power, and command as its natural state. "I believe you may have ideas as to where to go beyond this cesspool of criminal activity and unfortunate tourism." he added, his icy crevasse like eyes beaming as they locked onto this man with the utmost appreciation. He was by no means a kiss up, but he was so interested in this man's power and expertise that he couldn't help but feel like he needed this man on his side. 

[Phantasma]

    "For the record, anybody wrecks this place and even if It's the dead of night I'll come to track you down. Commit that to memory," Kite tapped the side of his head with his free left pointer finger before exiting out of the twin set of doors disappearing off into the light of the outside while Little John and the rest of Marks crew seemed to be steaming over some drinks. 

    Little john in particular was griping the glass exceptionally hard. Rattling it around while his face was twisted into a passionate glower. Eyes reduced to a cracked, irritated mess he eyed daggers at the bar keep for working with a bounty hunter but made no obvious moves against the jarred and nervous worker. Instead he turned on his stool bringing in close the others with a crook of his right hands finger, a grin of sorts forming on his lips. No sooner had Kite left did those goons eventually leave, in fact the majority of the people in the bar followed having steadily grown a grudge against a man who had so brazenly walked into their town and started trouble. None of them were allies beyond a hateful and criminal creed. 

---

    Sporting a man like he was over his shoulder Kite was the subject to a lot of staring. After meeting a lot of them eye to eye he eventually gave up and instead twisted his head to the left looking over his shoulder at the guy who had tried talking to him in the bar. His smile made the hunter consider immediate chastising but instead he observed some of the less exaggerated details such as his clothing, the way he spoke and the way he acted. Instinctively the conclusion drawn was he was a civilian that likely worked for the highest pay-- private sector meant something that even criminals would want. Cooks weren't going into bars offering their service, much less some kind of bodyguard or crafts worker. 'In all likelihood', Kite thought, 'He's probably some kind of book keeper, a number cruncher. An agent. Broker'. 

    It wasn't some miracle of abductive reasoning. Rather it was from a combination of easily observable factors. You don't dress that nice, go into danger so willingly, unless your work was highly specialized and could afford the risk under the notion the skill made you less inclined to be attacked. 

    "You're looking too far into it. That wasn't advice, it was a warning... you were getting worked into a con back there. Extortionism is the nicest kind of thing here, it'll only get worse if you thrust yourself into a veritable den of lions. But to answer your question... no. I've got no big location and after dropping this guy off I'm likely going to call it a day and source out a few more Marks before I leave," Turning his head back around the hunter took a sharp right around a corner. 

    Through thinking and talking the stretches of sidewalk were incredibly long. Proven by as much when Kite didn't immediately speak and just looked back. He was walking at a brisk pace yet hadn't ventured over into the road. 

    "If I had any actual advice for you then it would be not to follow weird men. Instantly assuming some sort of friendship."

    "Think it antisocial if you want. I've had plenty of people pose as helpful types and then try and go for some neck crushing blow. Or a stab, coated in poison or some other caustic agent. I've actually made a game of counting out the various methods," Rolling his shoulders the figure continued right on down the road circling back getting a good look at the bar before going back towards the informal port. 

    Groaning on his shoulder Mark could only slump as his body radiated and echoed with a particular kind of soreness. The velocity at which he had been slammed into the bar was of such magnitude it had caused a near instant black out and fight as he might the fatigue that came with it was enough to exhaust his will to fight. He was used to the kinds of engagements where he had the advantage in numbers, and had he the stamina he would at the least cuss this high and mighty type down a few pegs. He settled in for squirming, quickly ended by a hard jab of Kites right finger into the pit of the mans scrawny neck. Stimulus from which caused him to groan some more and cease his childish flailing. 

    "Oh good lord... did it really take them that long to mobilize?" Kite mumbled to himself exchanging looks to either side of the bar and the buildings over to its back grabbing the lost-puppy type guy by his wrist or attempting as much and making a run for it. 

    The danger which had alerted him only became obvious later. A gunshot. A little beady projectile that ricocheted multiple times before slapping down where the group had just been standing. To have heard it nearly a solid minute before implied some kind of super hearing on Kite's part and judging from how he consistently wheeled his head around and squinted it wasn't just a fluke. The speed at which he was cruising along in his run was also easily enough to exhaust most people forcing his clothes to flap along in the wind and many people to get surprised at his approach and fall backwards all along the apartments and stores feeding between here to the docks. 

    The haste had cleared a lot of distance, yet the shots kept coming. Each one delayed, off their target. 

    "Can't afford to let this guy get shot and if I set him down they'll likely come for him. Wouldn't be much of a problem but when I break loose I tend to include a lot of collateral damage. Also not going to deal with you getting hurt by as much. Just takes one report and I'm a wanted man."     

[dravocn]

Looking too far into it? Perhaps he was. The kindness of strangers is rare, hence the appreciation of such things. However his denial of friendship had only reduced the benefit of the overarching plan. While it would be preferable to make friends with the dashing bounty hunter, it was not wholly necessary. On top of this, the bounty hunter, info broker combo would do rather well if anything. Though, considering the current predicament and social climate between the two at the moment, a business proposal wouldn't go very well.

Instead the broker simply smiled and nodded happily, allowing time to take its course. After all, this town was full of criminals. A bounty hunter coming in and taking one of their own, in front of his friends, with no backup, and playing the holier than thou card... these guys were not going to just let him walk away. The broker simply chuckled to himself at the prediction and understanding that the hunter had about his situation. Only to be pulled along in his fleet footed dashing.

The broker didn't much care to be dragged about, though appreciated the concern that a civilian getting caught in the crossfire simply out of association with the target would be a bad thing. He just as quickly made a dash, not being held back by a body over his shoulder, he sped along out of the way. If only to avoid being a distraction for the hunter, didn't want him keeling over simply because his focus was split more than necessary.

He did have thoughts of taking the enemy out rather than simply getting out of the way. His strength and speed would more than likely take care of the thugs firing at them, lest they have any abnormalities about them. Simply allowing the person of interest to be shot at was annoying to imagine at best, so instead he vanished into the wind as he sped back to the enemy. He chose to go around the town and come up from behind so as to quickly remove any transparency of his coming onslaught. Speedsters were Oh so troublesome when it came to close quarters combat, they nullify strength simply due to dodging, so catching them off guard is the best course of action. Those with distinct durability would have to be thought of later, for now the focus is removal.

As he circled around the strip of buildings, he rushed behind his targets as they were focused on firing and reloading their flintlocks. His gloved hand closed with a knuckle pointed out, before taking the smaller enemies out. The bigger ones were more likely going to be easier to remove when they notice something amiss, so taking out the more likely to have speed was first priority. He took the momentum of his speed and the addition of his strength and his knowledge to his fists as he rammed the first strike into the lower spine of his first victim.

His second fist came with reduced momentum but equally rapid striking speed. His target this time was the kidney, and before his halted movement could allow a strain to his strikes, he lifted his knee to swing the victim into their comrades. He was certainly focused on using his combination of momentum and natural power to ruin the group, but he felt like they needed a bit of a time out.

"You boys... need a nap. Otherwise you're going to be in quite a bit more hurt." he said calmly, his eyes far more cold now than they saw before. "I certainly do not wish to break every bone in your body, but I will... starting with your legs.... and any metatarsal I find in your feet..." he added with a smile that equaled that which he gave them in the bar.

[Phantasma]

    "Just what do you think you're" Kite noted the sudden absence of a hand, looking back just in time to see the guy he was escorting ducking out from the alley they were currently navigating. 

    "Doing... Man It's like I'm babysitting all over again. And I hate Children," Shaking his head side to side the bounty hunter increased his speed to the point of reaching a vanishing point. 

    No longer held down by needing to drag along someone Kite could focus on getting to the docks. The near consistent chatter of gun fire down on the streets had made him confident that the person with him was either running away from danger or wouldn't reach danger in time if he was running towards it. Kicking off the ground with enough force to send himself into the air Kite continued kicking the empty space of the sky above soaring up and over buildings flying as if he was on the wind itself to reach his destination. For the few folks that managed to see him they were pointing and yelling below eyes wide with disbelief and voices rife with astonishment at the flying man! Operating at this speed was still new to Kite and though he could keep a stable level at his stomach-turning height which made buildings now look smaller it was another game entirely for precise movement. 

    Sending out another series of blurred kicks Kite dashed forward and down towards the docks. Having wasted only a minute, maybe two in his trip across the pleasant walk from the bar to the planked loading-bays of the non-recognized sea-port. The captive was a little razzed and his hair was in a mess but local law enforcement was happy to take him up, dressed like much any of the people here but wearing a shiny silver shield like badge. The sheriff was a gruff looking man who was much taller than Kite, much more sculpted and had a weak chin hidden behind a thick beard. Granted what confidence he had was drained when he saw the pair fall down from what was empty air in an undeniably super-man like pose landing. There wasn't any sort of small talk, just an exchange of nods and berri's. 

    Taking a deep breath Kite once again used his Metranome forcing a gust of wind to nearly rob the sheriff of his hat. Sending up dust, sea salt and all manner of particles the older man coughed and wiped at his eyes quickly collecting the criminal and making off to his horse which had been secured to a nearby hitching post. The painted horse neighed in protest as the criminal was hogtied and loaded onto its back but calmed down at the touch of its rider, who even now looked to the sky in disbelief as Kite flew off towards wherever Drav thought he was heading. 

    "I swear to whichever God happens to be listening... that if this guy is trying to play hero in addition to what happened in the bar... hooooo" Shaking his head and gritting his teeth the bounty hunter forced an even more rapid set of kicks firing off in the air with the same sound as a cannon blast. 

    Soaring at the pace like he was and wasting hardly any time on a secured landing it didn't take long for his scanning of the ground below to yield results. Currently engaging like he was with the firemen and slapping them around it wasn't hard to draw conclusions about who was who even if they did look like dots to Kite. Altering his trajectory and falling downward the human-missile eventually made contact with now slightly cracked and ruined ground. Somehow this brawl had taken them to the outskirts of the city which met with the harsh desert-kissed backyard that the island was known for. In a geyser of sand Kite walked out and cracked his knuckles taking the opportunity to look around at the fruits of the strangers labor. 

    Transferring the prisoner like he had Kite didn't figure it would've given enough of a gap for the civilian he THOUGHT he was protecting to inflict this kind of an impact. What worries that were dispensed upon his safety now seemed a bit redundant considering he had just caught him proposing an ultimatum to, frankly, cowering gunmen. Not one to hold back, even if proven slightly to the contrary Kite rounded up by Drav letting out a very sharp exhale of air from his nostrils and in that same curl of breath smoothing back his white hair with his right hand. Brows quirked and mouth set in a very grim kind of frown he spoke. 

    "Vigilantism doesn't suit you. It's appreciated but... well think of it like this, doing these kinds of things paints you to be a very different kind of man. You attack folks, criminals or not, and it'll jeopardize the whole... salesman gig you've got going on. That's what you are right?"

    Pocketing his hands and stepping around, snaking off to the back of the somewhat jarred and now frozen stiff fodder enemies Kite titled his head to the left and the right. Inspecting the riflemen with a certain meticulous eye. Letting out a click of his tongue once or twice he took a step back and turned around on his heels looking at some unseen thing in the distance, eventually rotating back around to address the group. 

    "You know... I could have sworn I heard five shots versus four. One of you like to use two guns? Maybe a rifle and a pistol?" Casually talking as if he hadn't just interrupted a fight the hunter looked at the guns the men had brandished. 

    Unfortunately none of them were dual wielders. Brandishing pistols of average size with no particular specialty markings, a point of which that made Kite hold his eyes closed for a second as he rolled his shoulders. Popping open those red peepers once he had his stretch. 

    "Looks like we've got a straggler then... unless he's not apart of your group? Yes? No? Maybe so?" Kite pushed the subject further to the now shivering group of men, who honestly looked more like children trying to play cowboy the more Kite examined them. 

    Turning to Drav the hunter continued his conversation without missing a beat. 

    "Did you miss one of them? Did one of them run off while I had my back turned earlier?" Quirking a brow he referred to the time in which they had been split up, though from the ambiguity of the statement it might be difficult to gleam as much from words and tone alone.