Those With Power

[Killing_Time]

(We seriously need a TWP convo ASAP though)

Villa looked surprised to her side as Gish sat down. She began to mumble a greeting with her mouth full of bagel but remembered some manners and shortly managed a half-choked "morning." She cleared her throat and continued "Thought I was gonna sit here by myself all morning. Do you know where everyone is?" Take it easy, you're babbling. She stopped herself from talking. She always had this nervous twinge around Gish. She was so.. Well, alien. And it did not help that she barely knew any of their customs and everything that followed. It had been a month already, so perhaps it was time to make the effort.

[sgt_Angua]

"I caught a glimpse of Angel as he was finishing breakfast, but no one else showed up while I was eating. I got up fairly early. I saw Ryan when I went to deliver breakfast to Casey; he was on guard duty."

[Killing_Time]

"Casey..." She tasted the word. She hadn't really spoken about their prisoner by name and if she had called him anything, it certainly wasn't his name. She had stayed away from talking to the prisoner. She had come to understand that he was just like them and in a sense, not deserving to be held imprisoned. Rather dead than caught in isolation. "What do you think about what we're doing here? To Casey?"

[sgt_Angua]

"I... I'm not sure. I'm not entirely comfortable with keeping him locked up here but I really don't see any better options."

[Thunder]

Thorsten stared at the remaining bits of cat and the lumps of metal strewn across the room and wondered when his life had gotten so boring.

(Look guys, is anything going to happen at all? Cause if it isn't I want to creatively drop a bridge on Thorsten.)

[Varthonai]

(I'm set to do the mission whenever, finished preparing all the material a while ago, but people seem to have other things they want to sort out first. Plus I'm doing QD.)

[sgt_Angua]

(Who may call himself a man who would not fight for that which he holds dear? Nay, even the smallest mouse may call himself greater for braving the dangers of the world to provide for his family. We may not be strong in body, but our hearts are true and our minds bold. And so I tell you now, we shall not stand idly by and see our work washed away by the floods of apathy, we will not allow our work to succumb to the rot of neglect, we will not give up without a fight! Know, comrades, that though this may be our final charge, but I would not turn away from it. Should I find myself standing alone among fallen friends I shall not drop my sword and discard my shield so I may flee. No, my friends. I would throw away my shield so I may grip my sword more tightly and charge faster against the enemy, whatever the odds! I swear to you now that I will not stop fighting until my last drop of blood stains the battlefield! THOUGH WE MAY FALL WE SHALL NOT BE FORGOTTEN! ONWARD, FRIENDS! HEED NOT THOSE WHO DOUBT YOUR STRENGTH! ONWARD TO GLORY!)

(Also, Becca you need to post.)

[Killing_Time]

Villa stretched her arms and placed the above her head, leaning back on her chair. "I think you should've offed him when you had the chance. Would be better for us and him." She sat back up properly, feeling a little uncomfortable. "What the heck is Angel gonna do about him now? Release our potential death?"

[sgt_Angua]

"No, I-I've killed before. I have no taste for it. It would not have helped me. I don't know what Angel will do, but I won't kill if I can possibly avoid it."

[Killing_Time]

Villa raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather have him rot in some dark, isolated hole where he can slowly lose his mind instead of just sparing him the torture and the society the burden of keeping him around? I'd think someone with a weapon attached to them would have a different opinion."
She wrinkled her nose. She had been given the impression by Gish' abilities to fight that she was of the same nature as herself. Then again, she was some kind of doctor or nurse so she'd probably be more happy to keep people alive.

[sgt_Angua]

"Our blades do not make us bloodthirsty. I won't kill someone who I am not certain is actively trying to kill me." I swore never to make that mistake again. "He doesn't seem to be miserable as he is now." Gish paused, organizing her thoughts. "And... I don't know how it fits with everything else he did that day, but... I feel that it's important that he chose to fight me fairly. Perhaps he is not irredeemable." The uncertainty in her voice turned the last sentence into a half-question.

[Thunder]

(Guys. Seriously.)

[Thunder]

(Right it's been a month. That's way too long, so I'm taking matters into my own hands.)

Life was good. The grand had finally arrived. The Guard Post had been fixed up after Énna had broken in. And he was finally used to life with his new arm.

He was out driving around the city. Hope really did live up to its name at times, especially since the Guardians had started clearing up the petty crime. Also he was driving the veyron, which seemed to radiate a magnificent glow all around it wherever it went. He enjoyed driving around, usually not in the flashy cars, but this time he had to make an impression. He was going to try and get the Hope PD on his side.

He slowed down as he approached the Princedom and stopped when he was a few metres outside the boundary. He got out, straightened his suit and looked at the neighbourhood in front of him. Marc really had done a good job of bringing the place back to the standard it was at before Hope went to shit.

He leant on the door of the car, trying to find Marc's puppets that had to be patrolling the perimeter. He saw a couple of dogs watching him intently and he was sure he felt human eyes upon him. He began to wonder what Marc actually looked like, and it he was going to come out in person.

After a month ten minutes he got back in the car and drove away.

He was slightly disappointed but he wasn't going to let being blown off by the cajun ruin his day. He was sure that he could get the shades to listen to him.

Hope PD was a cesspit of corrupt cops and dirty officers. It was like all the scum from all the police forces in the country had congregated in one place so they could be payed to do absolutely nothing. Or worse. Thorsten had grown up in a small irish village where the local gardaí were quiet, yet useful. The difference between the men in the reflective jackets and the men in blue was disheartening to say the least. Nevertheless, he intended to motivate them by placing his own people in positions of power, firing anyone who was making a nuisance of themselves, and quietly removing anyone who even looked like they might be involved with the crime syndicates.

He arrived at the police headquarters to his usual chorus of flashing cameras and shouting journalists. Some of them wanted to know why he was here, but most of them wanted to see the damn hand. He was starting to get the urge to punch people whenever they asked, just so he could see their skull crunching when the metal hit them. He ignored their questions however, and the bodyguards that had been trailing him in the Ford Focus held them back so he could enter without a problem.

After an hour of talking to the higher ups, they agreed to let him oversee the PD from then on. He only had to write three cheques. He spent another half an hour talking to the force. He then sent half of them out onto the streets, because they were supposed to be on duty. They left without a word, with the line "and I'll be doubling your salaries" ringing in his ears.

He spent another few minutes shaking hands and getting his picture taken for the papers afterwards. He also meet a snarky man called Tony Stark that reminded him of himself. Thorsten wasn't sure why he was there, but great minds think alike.

As he was leaving, both of his bodyguards seemed to fall over at exactly the same time, almost completely silently. Thorsten didn't notice. He assumed they had gone to check the perimeter or whatever it was those secret service guys did these days. He only noticed when he was blinded by the paparazzi again that they weren't shielding him from the mob. They pressed closer, asking their inane questions over and over, all trying to be the one with the best scoop. They surrounded him, and now he couldn't see, all the flashbulbs had blinded him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. When he opened his eyes there was a gun in his face.

"Karataev sends his regards" said the man on the other end, and shot him between the eyes.

Blood exploded from his forehead, drenching the paparazzi directly in front of him. There was deadly silence for about a second while he toppled backwards, but when he hit the floor they screamed as one and ran.

He lay on the steps of the Hope Police Headquarters, one of the few true hopes that the city ever had, limbs spreadeagled and blood clouding his vision. Ian Thorsten took one last look at the sky and died.

(Surprise!)

[Rockonman]

(Any chance of getting on the waitlist to get in on this?)