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Private A Job To Die For

Discussion in 'Ark City' started by Sebastian Moran, Sep 20, 2018.

  1. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    [​IMG]


    September 22nd, Year 108
    @Baby



    ___________________________________​

    September 19th​
    The world had ended and begun again. Basher was pretty certain he's actually bloody died, but now he was alive as ever, still tasting the nicotine on his tongue like he's never been dead.
    He was a father now - somehow, in some way - and a war hero of a place he's never even went to war in.
    None of it he understood.

    But this, this he understood, he thought when setting up his rifle on the 16th floor of a near-empty hotel building.
    The cigarette between his teeth smoked away peacefully. Somewhere in a room above him, somebody was playing Beethoven. The pieces of the sniper rifle sat familiar in his hand, and the mechanisms fell into place skillfully beneath his fingers. He was calm, relaxed.
    Some shady bastard had promised him a hell lot of money for this shot, and Basher hadn't bothered asking what the issue was.
    He liked money. And he liked bringing death on a precisely aimed bullet - and somebody needed him to do exactly that. There hadn't been need to talk much further.

    Not much later, he had his eye against the scope and his target across the street, sunglasses on and looking younger than Sebastian had expected.
    He had a clear view. The sky was cloudless, the wind low, the angle perfect.
    His finger was calmly resting upon the trigger as he blended out all sound around him, focusing only on the beating of his own heart.
    The target was stood in front of an expensive looking car, the line of his shoulders appeared relaxed, but he was clearly up to something.

    Basher frowned, the finger that's been steadily squeezing the trigger coming to a halt.

    Out in the wilderness there was only one call the hunter was meant to follow - gut feeling. Nothing was nearly as reliable as instinct, and no word as trustworthy as a feeling in one's stomach.
    Slowly, Sebastian released the trigger, without having fired his shot. There would be time for a kill any hour of the day - no matter the time or place, he'd be able to make it work if need be.
    But first, he wanted to figure out who this boy was.
    There was no quitting a gut feeling.

    ___________________________________​

    September 22nd​

    Cigarette between his fingers, and the sun slowly crawling towards the pavement, Sebastian turned the next corner into a smaller street of Ark City's always busy districts.
    The boy known as Baby was a few buildings ahead, and the marksman's sharp eyes were trained upon him, but there was no hurry in his step.
    The contract hadn't been quit yet - but if everything turned out right today, then he'd quit it later tonight. It wasn't his bloody problem whether his soon-to-be-ex employer would be upset about it. Surely, he'd be able to find somebody else to shoot that boy, if he really wanted to.

    Turning another corner, the streetlamps grew rarer here, the buildings dirtier.
    Before Baby could disappear behind one of the buildings, Sebastian crossed the remaining distance in long strides, and grasped the boy's forearm to make him come to halt.
    The alley was empty except for the two of them, conveniently so. Audience only ever tended to cause unnecessary trouble and bloodshed.

    "You're a bloody good driver, Baby, can't deny that. But you might want to reconsider that nickname."
    Releasing the boy's arm, Basher took a lazy drag on his cigarette, sharp blue eyes steady upon the other. If the boy were to run, he'd kick him down in no time. Or simply shoot him in the leg with the handgun hidden beneath his jacket.

    "Hell, where are my manners. It's Sebastian, pleasure."
    With a grin that was much more terrifying than it was friendly, the marksman offered his free hand for a handshake, as if this was a new-neighborhood-introduction session.

     
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  2. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    He had a job interview tomorrow. A part of him was actually excited for it. Having come here to Pandora straight from prison put life into perspective. Not that Baby had been under any false impression that what he had been doing had been okay, but it hadn't been his voice. He hadn't had any other options. Maybe the others would have been caught, too, if things had gone differently. Or maybe Baby would still be trapped in a world he didn't want anything to do with.

    None of that mattered, though, in Pandora where things were different. Or they were supposed to be different, and yet there was that impulse that he'd flipped right back to, nabbing cars whenever the urge struck him and joyriding through the streets of Ark City, jumping on the highway. Cops tried to chase him down, but they hadn't dealt with Baby before and he outwitted them every time. Once, he'd slipped himself between two other red cars in the heat of the moment and veered off in another direction at the split of the highway, his pursuers getting confused and chasing after the innocent of the cars.

    There was no denying the sense of euphoria that still came with it all, especially when he was blasting something right for the scene in his ears. And he always was. Life needed a soundtrack, and with those earbuds he'd probably be caught dead without, it always had one.

    The public had started giving him a name, though. The "ghost rider", which was a little funny to him. Wasn't that a comic book character? Still, it was exactly the thing that had gotten him thinking about the idea of getting a regular job and leaving the crime behind him. It was just delivering pizzas, but it was something. And, hell, he'd be one fast pizza delivery guy. Imagine the tips.

    A hand caught his arm just before he turned a corner, jogging him from his thoughts. The sound of Fleetwood Mac in his ears was still clear as day as he came to a halt, though it wasn't entirely his choice. The man's grip was a strong one and Baby turned to stare up at him behind his dark sunglasses, and although his eyes were hard to see, his shock and confusion was clear as day in the way his lips parted.

    Baby.

    He knew his name. Baby couldn't put into words why he had kept it, why it had stuck despite everything that had happened, why he didn't just go by Miles now. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that this man knew his name, and Baby hadn't done anything of significance using that name. The vibes he was getting were bad ones even as the man, Sebastian, released his arm and held out his hand. The look on his face wasn't friendly despite the grin. It was more chilling than anything else, and rather than shake his hand, Baby found himself taking a step back, lifting a hand to pull his earbud out of his right ear.

    "I'm not open for business," he told him, and there was something direct about the way he said it, as if he thought he already knew where this was going. Swallowing thickly, Baby pressed his lips to a fine line and turned with every intention of going the other way.

    ooc; ignore the fact that i have no icon aslfjhalsfhjasf, i don't have access to photoshop until later today.
     
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  3. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    What he was doing here was rare for him to do. Very rare.
    Basher wasn't much of a team-player unless there was more gain than loss from pretending to be one. But dismissing a kill in favor of a partner in crime was definitely a first, which made that boy quite a special case.
    Thus there was nearly a sting of disappointment when Baby's reaction was exactly what Sebastian would have expected any average citizen to react.
    Shock, confusion, perhaps even fear - all included. And he didn't even need to see the other's eyes to tell.
    God, please don't make this one a boring one.

    The handshake wasn't returned - something that would probably have left a few civilized Brits gasping and frowning in bewilderment if this were London - and when Baby took a step backwards, Sebastian lowered his hand with a casual shrug.
    This wasn't London and he wasn't civilized.

    I'm not open for business
    At least the boy wasn't bloody daft.
    But it was cute that he thought he'd have any say in this whatsoever. For Basher it didn't make much of a difference, truly. Either the other joined in on the fun, or he'd shoot the boy first thing tonight.
    It would be somewhat of a shame, certainly, but he wouldn't bloody weep over the other's loss.
    Money wasn't something he'd ever complain about. (Unless talk was about wealthy politician and elite societies).

    Even when the other turned with intention to disappear out of sight, Sebastian knew Baby wouldn't be getting very far. Not as long as he had a say in this, and at the moment he most fucking certainly did.
    It was only for effect - to catch the other's attention for good, if you will - that he pulled his revolver in a smooth motion and pointed it towards the other with a steady hand. He had a more modern handgun by now, but old habits died hard, and this little, beautiful piece of weaponry had not seen enough murder yet as that he'd be willing to put it down. Besides, somebody's told him that vintage was popular these days.
    The weapon made its familiar clicking sound when he cocked the hammer calmly, nothing in his expression indicating any sign of distress. He was entirely unfazed.

    "Apologies, I should have been clearer on the matters at hand."
    Again, the cutting sharpness in his voice was subtle, but cold. Like a shimmer of steal in a darkened room.
    He didn't need to speak threats to establish the fact that this was not a walk-away situation.

    "It's simple. Somebody offered me a fair amount of money for sniping you a good three days ago. And I would have - I was damn close to doing it, actually. Trigger half-pulled and all.
    But I've decided you're more useful alive. So, really, this is up to you. Either you leave now, and I shoot you tonight. Or you drive me around a few times, and I'll make sure you live.

    Are we clear now?"


    No distress or anger or upset lingered with these words. Sebastian was the epitome of steel-sharp patience, the blue of his eyes non-saying but fixated upon Baby with an intensity of somebody who could probably predict your next move with a mere glance.

     
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  4. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    Baby knew hardened criminals. He'd spent more time around them than he cared for, and everything about the way that this man carried himself said hardened criminal. He didn't really know in what respect, not yet anyway, and he didn't think he cared to know either. The less he knew, the better. But it didn't matter how much or how little he knew because when he started to turn away from him with the intention of slipping away into the dark with the hopes of never seeing him again, it was apparent just how far he wouldn't be getting.

    The sound of that cutting sharpness in his voice was just about as familiar as the click of the weapon beside him. Baby hadn't even turned all the way before he froze. Not in a way that necessarily suggested a sense of cowardice or fear. He'd always been good at holding back those kinds of emotions except in the most dire of situations, and this situation wasn't dire enough if he still had something to offer.

    'You're either hard as nails or scared shitless.'

    That was what Griff had said to him. Sometimes Baby didn't even know which it was and this situation wasn't an exception. Not yet.

    He was smart enough both to stand still and to listen, though. Baby didn't turn his gaze toward the man, not daring to move a muscle, so he stared at the wall ahead of him instead. Somebody had paid this guy to come kill him. Maybe it wasn't completely nuts. He stole cars, went joyriding. It was what he did, and that could piss people off. Apparently enough to want him dead. It had to be more than that, but to be fair, that was the least important piece of information in that particular moment.

    "... Crystal," he murmured after a moment. "Just a few times. A few times, and that's it." Finally, Baby turned his gaze toward him, lips pressing to a fine line. There was almost a sense of expectancy there as though trying to come to some kind of understanding. He didn't want to go down this path. Not again.

     
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  5. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    It hadn't been hard to predict that Baby here wouldn't want a bullet in his skull, and luckily he wasn't daft enough to assume he could run faster than Basher could fire his revolver, so the situation quickly settled the way the marksman had intended it to.

    His new soon-to-be driver stopped in his tracks immediately, not even daring to turn around, but Sebastian knew he was listening.
    Because this was important. His life kind of depended on listening, now, and Baby was doing a good job so far.

    After a moment of silence once Basher's clarified the matters at hand, the expected outcome came around, too. All in all, everything was going rather smoothly.
    Almost a little too smooth. Sebastian considered telling the other to run, just so he could chase him down for the fun of it. But that would have been counter productive, and a waste of time, and Basher was more of a pragmatic man. Though he would have liked this to be more exciting.

    Just a few times
    The other turned finally, apparently realizing that he wouldn't be getting shot today, and Sebastian stared him down for just a moment longer, before shrugging casually and putting his revolver away.
    There wasn't much need to state the obvious - which was that Baby had very little to say regarding how many times he was going to drive the marksman around.

    Sebastian didn't care much for loyalty, but if the lad did a good job, he might even find it in him to consider the a few times genuinely.
    Baby wasn't a complete idiot, and that qualified him for eventual removal from the job possibly alive, not in form of a corpse with a bullet hole in his skull (as was usually the case).

    "Sure. Let's get to it. Where's your car?"

    There were murders to be taken care of.


     
    #5 Sebastian Moran, Oct 4, 2018
    Last edited: Oct 12, 2018
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  6. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    Once you were in, getting out didn’t seem to be a simple option. Baby had learned that the hard way when Doc had shown up at the restaurant that fateful night, when he had explained to him that paying him back for what he’d stolen and what he’d damaged didn’t make him a free man.

    No, Baby knew how this worked, which meant his mind was still wandering, still trying to find some kind of out even as he agreed. Did he know where he lived? Did he know his real name? Few people did, but he hadn’t exactly been able to put Baby on his documentation either. He wouldn’t have wanted to either.

    For a moment, he found himself stuck in his head, using that as some sort of retreat until the sound of the man’s voice pulled him back in again.

    “What?” he murmured dumbly as though he hadn’t expected that to come so soon. “I don’t, um— I don’t have one. I’ve boosted ever car I’ve driven here.” It was a bold thing to say out loud, but Baby figured this guy knew more than enough about his joyriding pastime.

    It was harmless. That was why it worked for him. Because it was harmless. Nobody got hurt.

    This man, though, was a man who hurt people for a living.

     
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  7. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    What?
    Perhaps he wasn't as smart as assumed, after all. Sebastian arched an eyebrow in silence, but didn't say anything quite yet.

    Baby was a weird guy - as weird as that nickname of his, to say the least, and while gathering information on someone had never been an exceptionally difficult task for Basher, he knew that a file could only say so much. And even if one bothered to go around and speak with everyone the target had any relation to, in the end that would only ever be a fragment of the truth.

    It was true that Basher preferred people dead, not alive. Or, rather, he preferred them alive for long enough to get a chance to make them dead.
    But that didn't mean he couldn't find people interesting.

    There was something entertaining - hell, even appealing - in the thought that this time around he wouldn't be making acquaintances with his target post-mortem, but rather he'd get the chance to actually figure out who this person was.

    Baby didn't strike him as annoying, chatty company. And though the boy seemed a little too stuck in his own head, Basher didn't care as long as he'd react quickly and precisely to orders given.
    If the guy knew how to think for himself, too, well - their time together would just be a blast!

    The rocky beginning was sadly not very promising, though.

    Sebastian sighed but refrained from rolling his eyes at Baby's obvious explanation.
    "Then get one. Or would you prefer me taking care of that?"

    Annoyance wasn't quite audible yet, but it was evident that if Baby didn't want more people than already planned to wind up dead or at the very least injured, he would have to set himself into motion and get his hands on a damned car.
    Because however Baby preferred stealing his cars - Basher's version of doing so was likely to be much more bloody.

     
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  8. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    The man's patience didn't seem to be much, but it was enough to keep him alive for the moment. And for the moment, he needed to be alive, otherwise he was gonna have a serious problem. As the other man inhaled and then let out a sigh, Baby didn't seem to react outwardly. He'd always been good at keeping a straight face. He was used to this sort of thing, people rolling their eyes at him, giving him crazy looks, having no patience, assuming he was never listening because of the earbuds in his ears. Only one earbud was still in, which meant a lot for someone like Baby even when he was still wearing shades over his eyes. It meant he was listening extra well.

    "No," he said quickly, and there was a firmness to it. He wasn't saying he wouldn't get the car, though that may have been the initial assumption, but Baby seemed to realize that very quickly as he continued. "I'll do it." Despite that save, though, the gears in Baby's head were still turning. He took a step back from the other man, casting his blue eyes down the street until it fixed on a silver car a ways down, sitting there all on its own. He couldn't tell exactly what it was from a distance, and in Pandora, it probably didn't matter entirely, but at the very least, he could tell it would get the job done.

    But then his eyes were drifting behind those sunglasses, lingering for a moment on the alley a short distance in front of the car. An escape route. It probably lead out to the main road, and the main road was more likely to keep him safe. The more people around, the better.

    Maybe Baby wasn't thinking it completely through. The last thing he wanted was for people to get hurt, and every sign pointed to just that when he considered fleeing. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself not to consider it. He'd been in this life before with people less ready to kill than this man was. Those had all been robberies. This was something else, something he didn't want anything to do with. So he took in a figurative breath and then set off down the street toward the car, keeping his cool outwardly since that was something he was so incredibly good at.

    It was at the very last second as he was passing the alley by that Baby suddenly moved, sprinting to the side with every intention of disappearing around that corner.

     
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  9. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    Having worked in the criminal business for long enough often made it easy to predict people's behavior. The military, too, helped. War was the very epitome of human behavior, and Sebastian had long since lost any fragment of faith in humanity's good-will. There was none.
    They were all egocentric assholes - each and every one of them. And he was fine with that.

    I'll do it
    Basher nodded - he's known that would be the outcome. That or death. And this one didn't look like he'd risk dying over a car theft and a few times of playing the chauffeur.
    He let the other step aside, cast his glance down the street behind those shades as if the darkness of the glasses would somehow protect him from Basher's studying glance.
    It didn't.

    But in Baby's defense, it was not so much about observance only as it was about instinct, knowledge, experience. When a man was used to situations of life and death, where each glance, word, breath could decide over what was to come, then one developed a certain instinct for a shift of situation.
    Basher was such a man. Much to Baby's misfortune.

    So when the other glanced down the street towards a car which the marksman could equally make out there, lingering for just a moment where he was stood, Basher knew that it was not only the car that had caught the boy's attention.
    It was a shift in the air, a second of tension, a breath too short or too long - whatever it was, Sebastian felt this click in the air, this subtle shift of intention.
    He followed the other's glance down the street, and he, too, spotted the alleyway.
    It wasn't difficult to add up the pieces here.
    But he didn't say anything - he wasn't that much of a killjoy.

    When Baby took a breath and headed down the street, Sebastian rested his hand calmly on the handle of his revolver. It would get to taste some blood tonight, after all. And there was nothing that made good ol' Basher happier than spilled blood.
    Sharp blue eyes followed the car-thief's every step, and even from a distance, even with the sunlight dying, the hunter's stare took notice of the second his prey stepped out of line.

    Baby would never make it around that corner.
    Sebastian fired the shot the very moment his soon-to-be accomplice started running. The angle was perfectly aimed as ever, flawless in its execution.
    The bullet found its target in the flesh of Baby's left leg, and perhaps there was a grin tugging at Sebastian's lips when he watched the boy go down mid-run.

    The shot had been loud, a revolver like this wasn't build for modern silencers, but the marksman was not too worried about it. They'd be out of here soon, and there were no witnesses around.
    And even if there'd be trouble to come their way, he'd know how to deal with it.

    "I think you got lost - that's the wrong street, check your navigation system."
    The revolver was back beneath the material of his jacket, as Sebastian walked down the street towards Baby unhurriedly.
    It wasn't like the boy had much chance at running anymore.

     
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  10. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    There he was, thinking he'd been sly, thinking he could've actually caught the other man, a trained killer, by surprise and it turned out, he couldn't even make it one single step. Actually, that single step was all he made before he heard the loud pop of a gun behind him. It didn't really occur to Baby was what happening, not because he'd never heard the sound before. He'd heard it plenty before he'd gone to jail, but he wasn't thinking about it either. He was just thinking about going, about getting as far away from that street as possible.

    And then he felt it. Not the pain, not yet. Just the pressure and the feeling of falling, like his leg wasn't working anymore as he tumbled onto the ground. Sunglasses falling from his face, he missed the sound of them breaking when they hit the pavement. His tape recorder fell out of the pocket of his jacket and hit the ground, too, bouncing a couple of feet from him, but most importantly was the fact that his iPod did the same. It was a little blue iPod Nano on the other end of the earbuds that were no longer in his ears. He couldn't hear the sound of music anymore, just the tell-tale ringing, which was all the worse in his left ear as the silence around him set in.

    The last thing to set in, it seemed, was the actual pain as he lay there on the ground, clenching his jaw tight and taking in a sharp breath through his nose. His dark eyes darted toward his leg where he could see the hole, where he could see that red liquid coming out. He'd shot him. He'd actually shot him and for a moment, Baby looked stunned as he stared at it. The pain worsened with every passing second, but the kid either had high tolerance or was tough as nails because his reaction to it all was pretty tame.

    It was only when he realized the man was coming toward him with that gun in his hand that the panic started to set in. Eyes darting this time up toward him, Baby started to drag himself backward across the ground, fingers fumbling for the earbuds near him to drag his iPod along as though that were somehow the most important item there.

     
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  11. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    Luckily the bastard didn't scream. Didn't break out in hysterical sobbing either - and yes, some people did - which only confirmed it further for Basher that his bullets were better off in someone else's skull. The kid was tough. Strange, sure. But Sebastian found he kinda liked him.

    Even the fact that Baby tried to crawl away, dragging himself across the pavement, as he spotted Basher coming towards him, didn't change the marksman's mind. He had decided to cut the kid some slack what with the panic and shock that had probably kicked in.
    So Sebastian returned his revolver to its holster beneath his coat, raising his hands to show to the other that he was unarmed, and meant no harm - as ironic as that might have been in Baby's eyes.

    "Relax. I told you I have no interest getting rid of you. It was just a warning, that's all."
    Unsurprisingly, he was faster than Baby could ever have been crawling on the ground, so as he reached the spot where the shot had hit, the marksman leaned down to pick up the kid's lost items off the floor, carefully collecting them in his hand before crouching down in front of the other and handing them to Baby.

    "Sorry about the glasses - I'll get you new ones, once you get us into that car."
    The desperate way in which Baby's reached for his.... music device (because Basher was pretty sure that's what it was, though he had no bloody idea what it was called) was telling.
    Sebastian knew such people. People who could only function in a certain way.
    And as long as this was listening to music for Baby, hell did he care. He just needed to get the job done with a reliable company. The rest? As long as it didn't get in his way, he didn't care.

    "If I were you I'd get that car. Probably a first aid kit in there, and that wound needs to be wrapped up. Hate to break it to you, but you're losing a lot of blood, kid."
    As if it wasn't his fault that the "kid" was "losing a lot of blood" there.

     
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  12. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

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    Just a warning. Shooting him in the leg was a warning. Baby sort of wanted to laugh, the kind that came from a sense of hysteria or a sense of pain. He was feeling a bit of both, as muted as those expressions were on his face. The pain part of it all was more obvious than anything else. His hands were shaking, one bloody from having reached out to touch the wound. Like if he touched it, maybe it wouldn’t be real. Maybe it wouldn’t really be there.

    But it was there and the pain was raw and very, very real.

    Still, the man had proven himself as ruthless as he’d clearly meant to. Baby was bleeding, he was losing a lot of blood just like he’d pointed out. Like he didn’t know, like he had no idea that his leg was bleeding out as the man responsible stood over him as though they were having a very one-sided discussion about something as mundane as the weather.

    There was no getting out of this, he realized. Not in any way that didn’t involve getting a bullet in the head, and Baby didn’t want to die. He’d been through too much to die, he’d left too much behind to die here in Pandora. So what did that mean? That he was about to repeat the past? That he was about to go back and repeat the same mistakes from before? But what choice did he have?

    So Baby reached out to grip his iPod, tugging it toward him. He didn’t put the earbuds back, though, slid them into the pocket of his jacket with the device and started to climb to his feet. It was difficult and he was too stubborn to reach out for Moran as though he didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want his help even if he would have given it. Like hell he would’ve given it. Baby was determined. Maybe it was that hard as nails attitude that surprised people, but it got him to his feet and he half-dragged half-limped his way toward the car in question.

    Once he’d broken his way in with the skill of somebody who had done it a hundred times before, Baby slid into the driver’s seat, letting out a gasp of relief for the chance to get some weight off of his injured leg. He could have gone looking for the first aid kit then, but he was worried there wasn’t one at all and maybe it was better not to know. Or maybe he was being smart about this. There was no telling when the car’s owner would be back, so he promptly hotwired the car to life and slammed the gas with his good leg as he pulled the car into reverse.

    With a screech, the car raced backward toward his new unwanted boss. He probably could’ve hit him with it. It would’ve been easy to just run him down, but what if it didn’t work? What if he failed to kill him?

    So the vehicle came to a halt at his side instead and he turned his head, staring at the other man, waiting for him to get the hell in. At the same time, he went fishing for his earbuds, popping them into his ears for the sake of drowning out the distinct buzzing that he had learned to live with in his own way. Or maybe it was distract from the distinct pain in his leg.


     
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  13. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

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    Directory:
    link

    Skill was what Basher's been looking for, and watching the lad (smartly deciding) breaking his way into the car, he knew he was getting exactly what he's spilled the other's blood for.
    Baby here knew what he was doing, and this was clearly not his first time. It was quick, easy, and subtle. And that was all Basher needed it to be.

    Of course, he considered the possibility of the other attempting to steer that car right into him once the engine kicked into motion, but he hoped the lad wasn't that daft. Moran's survived his fair share of crazy adventures - getting hit by a car seemed like a piece of cake in comparison. Just that Baby, of course, didn't know that, and he would have come to pay bitterly for a misstep - a shame, really, but Basher's patience wasn't endless, either.
    Luckily, no such thing happened.
    The car came to an abrupt halt next to him, and the marksman took his seat as relaxed as ever, pulling the door shut behind him and reaching for a new cigarette. He didn't bother with a seatbelt. With everything he's survived in his life, a seatbelt seemed a pathetic mockery of safety.

    Sparing a short glance towards his driver's still untreated, bleeding leg, the marksman calculated the time they had before the other would black out from the blood loss - not enough to turn this drive into a concerning adventure with a possibly tragic outcome.
    "Munhall Arch, Midcourt. I'd give that leg of yours 30 minutes give or take before you'll black out, so better hurry."

    Was he concerned to be giving Baby his home address?
    No. The lad may be a good thief, but he wasn't an assassin. There was nothing that Baby could do, or would likely even consider doing, that'd be of much harm to Basher whatsoever - mainly because the boy wasn't stupid. He knew that anything he'd do would backfire right into his pretty face.
    And this whole matter would become bloody. More so than it already was.

    And he still needed to get his rifle for tonight's job - not to mention they'd better take care of that injury.
    Basher had his doubts regarding his driver's medical knowledge, and while he himself wasn't a medic, either, he was a veteran and well-familiar with shot wounds, both on others and himself.
    Sure, it was somewhat annoying that now he'd have to patch the poor bastard up first, but he couldn't have the kid collapsing over the wheel in the most inconvenient of moments. It was his fault, after all, so he'd have to clean it up, too.
    Maybe he'd have time for a mug of chai tea in between.

     
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  14. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

    Posts:
    41
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Driver
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    23

    This specific situation wasn't one he'd been in before. It was probably a miracle, to be honest, that he'd gotten through everything he'd gotten through back home without getting shot, though that didn't mean he hadn't gotten hurt. Baby had hurt. He'd hurt bad, and his ears were proof of that. After treatment in prison, they weren't as bad as they had been, but there was definitely some impairment. The kind of impairment that the earbuds he always stuck in them didn't possibly have been helping, but he didn't know that he cared. Or maybe he just didn't understand just how necessary it was for him to take care of those ears if he didn't want to lose the one thing he had left that he truly loved.

    Though keeping his leg would have been nice. And his life, too. Blacking out wasn't gonna be good and the constant pain that had flared up in his leg felt like it was getting worse and worse with every second that ticked on by.

    It seemed like a miracle when they made it to the house in question. Baby's first thought was that it was so normal. His second thought was that his leg hurt and he honestly didn't know if he could walk. If he could even get out of the damn car and Moran made it clear that he was gonna have to. He tried, though, jaw clenching tight as he shoved the door open, one hand lifting over his head to grip the edge of the car's roof as he started to push himself up out of the driver's seat. He could feel himself faltering, pain flaring up in his arm from the sheer effort it was taking to keep himself upright.

    Suddenly, it was like the blood was rushing to his head despite the fact that he felt like it was all soaking through his jeans, and as an earbud fell from his ear, Baby felt his body rocking to the side and starting to fall.

     
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  15. Sebastian Moran

    Sebastian Moran Sherlock Holmes

    Posts:
    85
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Marksman
    Race:
    Human
    Directory:
    link

    There was no such thing as blind trust in Sebastian's life. There wasn't even really such a thing as trust. It hadn't been anything as daft as that which had led him to allowing the injured lad to drive the much too long distance despite high chances at him blacking out over the wheel.
    It was more the fact that Basher didn't really care. He'd survive a car crash, he was certain of that. Sure, it would be a pity if the boy would have died in said possible car crash, but then he wouldn't have been worth the bother to begin with.

    Baby's driving was reckless but precise, and never once did they get in any trouble racing through the streets - with every passing minute, Sebastian found himself more and more convinced that he's made the right choice.
    By the time his house came in sight (was Wanda home yet?), they had crossed the 30-minute line hardly so. The car came to a stop safely though, the engine was cut off, and Basher rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the car.
    A good beginning to what could possibly become a very useful partnership. He almost smelled it in the cool air.

    All it took was a glance towards his driver to signal that there was no way in hell or heaven or whatever bloody worlds existed out there, that Baby would be staying in that car. Oh no, Basher wasn't daft enough for that - he'd keep a close eye on the boy.

    And luckily that was exactly what he did.

    The marksman's hand never quite reached the cigarettes in his pocket (having finished smoking his last one give or take 15 minutes ago), when the car door opened, a bloodied hand grasping the hood of the car, Basher already knew the boy wouldn't get out standing.
    It took a handful of quick, long strides for Moran to circle the car and catch the boy before he could hit the pavement.

    "Shit."
    Luckily for Baby, this wasn't the first time Sebastian had to shuffle about injured people in various situations, so it was with ease that he adjusted the grip on his driver and lifted the boy into his arms carefully. Blood was soon staining his arm, still stubbornly seeping out of the injury, and Sebastian still somehow managed to open the car's trunk to grasp the first aid kit there, before making his way to the door of his home.

    It was somewhat of a bitch to unlock a door when he couldn't see the keys for the body he was holding, but this, too, wasn't excactly the first time he had to put up with such a situation, and soon enough the two men were inside the spacious house in the living room with open kitchen which had all the traces of a family life clinging to its surroundings.

    Basher didn't waste any time placing the boy down onto the kitchen table - it was the highest surface available in close proximity, and the room with the best lighting, too.
    He wasn't nervous when he reached for a pair of scissors to cut Baby's jeans. He wasn't even particularly worried - not only did this boy mean practically nothing to him, but Basher also simply didn't know what stress meant.
    The worse the situation, the calmer he was. A certain kind of serenity had a way of kicking in whenever his life was in danger - it was immensely helpful for thinking up smart ways of saving his own arse.

    He angled the boy's leg, pouring antiseptic over the wound (and his hands) before pulling a needle and thread out of the first aid kit. Somebody had earned himself a new scar today - the kid better be proud of that when he'd come back to his senses.
    Basher only sewed the exit wound, as it was much bigger than the entry wound (because that was how bullets worked, friends! Let Basher Moran teach you some things about firearms today.), and no main arteries had been hit, so he didn't need to put the poor kid through more eventual thread-pulling than need be. Still the better option to having to fumble a bloody bullet out of that leg's flesh.

    He treated the entry hole with some more antiseptic and applied pressure with the help of a tourniquet before wrapping up the angled, now stitched up, exit hole with a fresh bandage.
    By the time he was done, there was blood smeared across the table, his own hands, most of Baby's leg... but nothing a good shower and some scrubbing couldn't fix.
    He kept the other's leg angled to keep the blood flow a little at bay, and stepped up to the kid's side, almost gently squeezing his shoulder.

    "Wakey-wakey, you'll get back pains sleeping on that table. All stitched up and bandaged, consider it a welcome present from me. How you feeling?"
    There wasn't really any... concern in the sniper's words, but he was asking for a reason. Basher never asked if he didn't care for the answer.
    Not that Baby had a way of knowing that.

     
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  16. Baby

    Baby Baby Driver

    Posts:
    41
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Driver
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    23

    He'd been hot. Winded despite the fact that he hadn't been physically running. Dizzy by the end of it, so much that it was probably a miracle they'd made it the entire way without him crashing. How long Baby was out for after that, he didn't know. He wasn't actively aware of anything, of any pain, of being carried, of anything else at all, really. Not until he felt the squeeze to his shoulder and the sound of that voice that grew increasingly familiar with each passing second. Slowly, his eyes blinked open and he stared up at the ceiling before his gaze drifted slowly toward the face staring down at him.

    Baby's memory was fuzzy at first, but that face alone brought it right back. He remembered running. He remembered feeling the bullet enter his leg and come out the other side, and he remembered having to drag himself over to the car in question anyway and physically drive this guy back. If Sebastian was looking for a driver, he'd come to the right person. Out of everybody in Pandora, he'd managed to find the best of the best and that was clear in the fact that they'd made it to where they were at all. But he'd also found a driver who didn't want anything to do with him.

    Only, he knew when he did and didn't have a choice, especially not after this guy had gone through the trouble of stitching him up, as was made very clear to him when he started to sit up. It was difficult. Despite the pain honing in on his leg for understandable reasons, his entire body felt drained and his head felt like it would start spiraling at any second. With his hand flat against the surface of the table, though, he was able to push himself up just enough to catch sight of the tell-tale bandage around his leg. The older man's question wasn't out of concern for his well-being. And if it was, it wasn't because he specifically cared about Baby. He cared about the driver. He cared about the job, and if Baby wanted to stay alive, then he was gonna have to cooperate for the time being.

    "Good enough to do my job," he said, his lips pressing to a fine line as he stared down at that leg of his. Would it have been the end of the world if he wasn't physically able to drive again? Well. Technically, yes. The bullet would've gone into his head instead. So as far as Sebastian was concerned, the pain was bearable, his head was fine, and he could do whatever it was he wanted him to do.

     
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