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A Death to Remember (C); Easy Solo
Topic Started: Dec 23 2017, 08:43 AM (86 Views)
Fasha
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Fasha
A Death To Remember

Difficulty: Easy

Description:

A contract has been put out on Kami's Apprentice; the next Guardian of Kami's Lookout it seems. You will be paid a great deal of money to take them out, but be cautioned. They're Kami's apprentice for a reason... Alternatively, you can try to stop the assassin hired to take him out.

Reward: +300 zeni, +2 DP, +20 all stats, +2 rp Credits

Bonus: -2 Alignment for attempting to assassinate the Apprentice, +2 for attempting to save his life.
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The room stank of stale beer and acrid urine. It was the kind of establishment where the wood had been permanently soaked with the litres of beer and piss that flooded it every night, now no matter how much cleaning happened the smell would never come out. A few men sat on stools against the bar, slouched over their drinks, deep in some dark pool of thought they had drunk themselves into. Along one wall were some old-fashioned booths and in the only occupied booth was the man she was looking for.

That day Fasha had been called to Kami’s lookout urgently. One of Kami’s newest apprentices, a young girl named Stevie had been named. Word had reached Kami that a hit was being put out for her, for what reason Fasha didn’t know. All she knew was that the Master Kami was concerned enough to send her out immediately, even before she got lunch to try and find the person behind it.

“Why don’t I just wait here for them to come?” She retorted.

“I would rather stop this before you have to come in and play hero up on my lookout,” he snapped back, unusually stressed.

She had left quickly after that, not wishing to anger the powerful Master any further. Mr. Popo, the ever-resourceful assistant to Kami had kindly supplied her with some information. Apparently, the man seeking an assassin had been hanging around a certain unsavoury pub in the centre of Crimechurch, a large metropolis.

The pub was called Skids, which she thought was fair. It certainly would have been fair to call the man at a booth a Skid. He wore baggy denim jeans, a blue puffer jacket despite the immense heat, a flat-top cap over his greasy product-filled hair and puffy black shoes which didn’t fit properly and stunk like they had never been taken off.

Fasha ordered a drink from the bar. They didn’t have water so she settled for a coke. She cracked the top and was rewarded with the refreshing sound of the carbon dioxide escaping and the liquid bubbling. She took a long sip, savouring the sweet taste. The Saiyan turned and walked over to the booth. The man glanced up as she sat down, a thin smile climbing onto his face.

The woman was beautiful and slight. Her pale skin shone like the moon and her eyes like the ocean. It was not in Fasha to be seductive, it might have been helpful at this point but she couldn’t bring herself to coo for a piece of shit.
“Hey sugar, you selling?” He sneered, his yellow teeth lining his grin. His eyes did not meet her gaze, instead she could watch them trace up and down her figure.

“Yes, twenty,” she said too robotically. The man was drunk, and didn’t seem to notice her complete lack of attraction to him.

He grabbed his jacket, flicked a dirty twenty dollar bill towards her and dragged her roughly to the men’s bathroom. He held her by the neck, hauling her into a stall where he sat down on the open toilet seat. The stench of excrement didn’t seem to bother him as he pulled down his pants and presented himself to her.

“Suck it,” he ordered. Fasha gripped him, at first gently and then applying more and more pressure. His soft moans soon began to rise in intensity until he was screaming in pain and begging her to let go. She held him in an iron grip and now he was looking at her in the eyes. Those cold eyes of ice now shone as bright to him as a lighthouse, and he did not look away or blink as she held him at her mercy.

“I need to know something.”

“Anything, just- ah- stop what?”

She gripped harder before her first question, causing him to yelp in pain. “You want Stevie dead. Why?”

Surprise leaped onto his face. “Who? I don’t know anyone by the name of-“ She twisted, his words dying into a screaming agony. The sound was loud, and resulted in the door opening to the bathroom.

“Is everything okay in here?” A voice called out. Fasha’s eyes bore into the man in front of her, silently telling him what to do.

“Yes,” he croaked.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, umm, just getting my kicks ya know?”

A grunt and the door closed again.

“I will not repeat my question,” she explained with ice on her tongue.

“Okay, okay,” he stammered. “She dumped me and ran off with some cunt called Kami.”

“So she deserves to die?”

“Well, no, but like yeah she does,” he tried to explain. “She led me on ya know, always giving me smiles and stuff and then when I tried to get with her she shamed me in front of all the lads.”

The feeling of disgust inside of her must have emerged on her face, because he suddenly looked more nervous. “I want to kill you,” she stated. “But I may not, if you give me more information.”

He nodded, not wanting to speak if he didn’t have to. “Have you found somebody?” He gulped.

“Yeah, ahh, ummm I did find somebody..”

She squeezed harder and he yelped, “I do not like having my hand on your penis, and not only does my patience run low, but so does the chance of you having one in thirty seconds.”

“His name is Victor! Okay! He’s a real bad dude! I was just chatting to him an hour ago. As soon as I told him how much I’d pay him he ran off, yelling something about fetching is guys. He runs a gang of Russians down on 6th. Please let me go!”

She twisted again. “Any other details you can recall?”

“He’s got guns, and he might have a military contact or something! That’s all I know, I promise!”

She conceded, letting him go. He collapsed forward clutching himself and moaning. His pathetic whinging irked Fasha, so she slammed her knee into his chin, sending his head slamming back into the wall. He was unconscious instantly and would be eating out of a straw long enough for him to learn his lesson.


1036/1036
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So, there was a man named Victor, who sounded like he had a lot of resources. The question was whether or not Fasha could find him. The man currently unconscious in the pub had mentioned that he might be in the army, and so it was probably the best place for her to look. Fasha knew there was a military base not far from here. It belonged to the airforce and had multiple fighter jets at its disposal.

The Saiyan flew away from the town towards the base. It had a very tall wire fence topped with razor wire and 50,000 volts of electricity running through it. The fence didn’t bother Fasha, but beyond it were holes in the ground which might have hid anti-aircraft missiles, and those could incinerate her. Further past the missile launchers were scattered runways full of fighter jets, helicopters, jeeps and barracks. It was a fortress, and for Fasha to get inside she would need to fight a lot of people. The army and airforce were big enterprises, and an attack on one section would lead to retaliation by the other.

Her only option was to wait, and see if there was any one deployed from the base, away from the protection of others. While she hovered in the warm desert air she put out her mind to Kami and his tower, to make sure she could still feel him there. She could, and his signal seemed strong.

After a couple of hours of waiting, Fasha noticed a group of men walking from the barracks to the runway. They wore uniforms, but of a variety of types. They had a swagger to their walk that was the indiscernible symbol of arrogance, and something Fasha could spot from even here.

They sauntered on over to a group of fighter jets, where they split up and all got into one. She watched as the jets slowly rolled along the ground, circling for take-off. The jets sped off one by one, flying off into the air with break-neck speed.

A training mission?

The planes flew past her, and in that brief second she managed to look into the cockpit. Beneath their cockpit she saw hard faces.

I know men.

She took off after them. As she followed them, struggling to keeup with their blistering pace a plane banked ahead of her and began to circle back. Warning bells began to trigger inside of her as the plane rocketed back so it was following her. She looked back to see a grinning, scarred face inside a machine which looked like some sort of great screaming animal. Flashes of light erupted and the sky was suddenly filled with streaking bullets, tearing through the air. Fasha dropped suddenly, away from the bullets and slowed down. She quickly rocketed up, timing it so that she would collide with the plane rocketing above her. She burst through the hull of the plane, coming out the other side in a fiery explosion.

The man had attacked her and now he was dead. She sped off after the remaining four planes, which were now not even visible on the horizon. She heard a sound, like that of wind being blown through a tunnel and suddenly a missile struck her, smashing into her side and exploding in a ball of fire. She wasn’t afraid of fire but the percussion of the blast sent her spinning away into the sky. Another blast hit her, and another. She could feel the pressure of the attacks pushing at her bones and clawing at her skin.

The Saiyan screamed in pain as more and more missiles hit her. She could see the gray shapes flitting past her, obscured by the smoke and releasing their deadly rain of hell. She pushed her arms out, covering herself in an aura, and stopping the next barrage of missiles. Now she could see clearly and gather her breath. All around her the planes flitted by. Fasha summoned up four balls of energy and sent them flying out. The planes dodged them deftly, but the balls kept following, arcing through the sky after their prey. Two of the planes were caught quickly and exploded instantly in a ball of flame. Another one managed to dodge the ball with some difficult aerial manoeuvres but it too was eventually destroyed. One plane lasted longer than the others, performing insane stunts to avoid the ball and flying at blinding speeds. Fasha grew impatient and flew in front of the plane. She stopped it with her hand, ripped the man out of the cockpit and held him up before her.

“You Vincent?”

His once hard face looked genuinely afraid, “Ah yeah, I mean no. Why?”

She threw him up into the air just as the ball streaked past and he exploded in a ball of fire.

807/1843
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