Revival Dawn is a role-playing forum set in an alternate universe of canon One Piece.
 
HomeSearchMemberlistUsergroupsRegisterLog in
The World Event (a big ass quest with lots of people) is starting soon! Come sign up here if you want to make history and/or earn a shit ton of cool rewards!
Log in
Username:
Password:
Log in automatically: 
:: I forgot my password
Top posting users this month
Gray
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
NPC
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Castor O. Nox
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Anton La'croix
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Victor Abio
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Shiro O' Lantern
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Issen Hachiyo
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Ghost
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Butch Castle
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Goldmonger
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_lcap[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_voting_bar[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. I_vote_rcap 
Discord Server
Vote for Us
Top RP Sites Top RP Sites
Share
 

 [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.

Go down 
AuthorMessage
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyThu Nov 30, 2017 10:09 am





E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS 795 TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 1 ❚


Quest Information:
 

”Watch it, kid! I said wat--” A sharp creek and a teeth-grinding racket was a terrific welcome to a new town.

”Shoulda warned me sooner, ossan!” The youngster’s reprimanding tone was met with little tolerance. ”It’s your fault you don’t know how to sail your own damn boat, you no-good brat!”

The youngster frowned and resisted the devilish urge to whack the skinny old man (who was actually pretty muscular and not skinny at all; and definitely not quite as old as one might think) with the oar, his clutch nearly squeezing the shaft like a spoiled banana. But, after drawing a deep and calming breath—as he was taught to do when dealing with ungrateful bastards—he simply sighed and mumbled. ”Ya only paid me to ferry ya to port. I ain’t gotta deal with yer tired mouth anymore. I’m leavin’.”

The old man halted him with a palm on his shoulder and a nudge back towards his rickety (but faithful) sailboat. ”Take better care of your ship, you fool. You hurt her when you tried to dock.” The youngster’s voice failed to exit his quivering lips, and a stream of sweat rolled down his flushed, brown cheeks. ”FUCK! Little Castle! This is all yer fault, ossan!” The youngster, in his panic, groveled and slammed the bottoms of his fists onto the wooden platform, staring helplessly at the hideous crack that seemed to nearly split the boat in two.

The old man groaned in protest and turned the other way, walking a few steps before pausing. ”C’mon, you no-good punk. Let’s find the local shipwright. He’s an old acquaintance so I’ll introduce you. Consider it a bonus for getting me through that storm alive.”

The lad’s angry gaze mellowed as he stood, adjusting the tattered and dirty white cloak wrapped over his shoulders. He then followed after a brief reluctant pause. ”Ya say that, but it weren’t me who sailed us through that ploughin’ sea-tantrum. Ya did all the work while I flailed around tryin’ ta furl the sail.” A sly smile warped the skinny man’s stoic face into an awkward doodle. He really shouldn’t try ta smile. Creepy.

The docks of Beach Hope were unsurprisingly popular, what with the town being the center of trade amongst the neighbouring islands. The scattered crowd shifted almost as if it were a single beast, alive and angry—though the almost rhythmic and practiced shouting and quarreling of the many sailors might’ve been responsible for much of that.

The youngster identified many caravels, a few galleons, and even a colossal windjammer anchored nearby. And then there was Little Castle at this far-eastern dock, a baby compared to the rest; a very ugly baby too, but her owner would resent that observation and deny it like a mother would the unattractiveness of her child.

With the cuffs of his pants still wet from the shallow pool of water which refused to part from Little Castle, annoying clumps of sand now clung to him like leeches when they crossed the beach towards the shipyard. Their modest destination was close and also decorated with a convenient (and frankly-getting-old) anchor and wheel. Where’s the mystery and the sense of adventure these days? Do they gotta label everythin’?

The de facto leader of the two-man parade walked awkwardly in the sand, his subtle limp more apparent now. With an uncharacteristic bout of curiosity, the youngster inquired with no particular conspicuous interest. ”Ya never did tell me why ya wanted ta come ta this sunny-sunshine town.” Without turning his head, the former passenger replied monotonously. ”I wouldn’t want a no-good rascal to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

The juvenile held back a scowl and murmured an insensible complaint grumpily. It would’ve been counter-productive to argue now; he needed the mocking bastard on his side to hopefully get away with a cheap repair (which would still—without a doubt—bite away the lion’s share of the fee he charged to ferry the man in the first place). But, the day wasn’t done spilling milk just yet.

The entrance was battered, a very subtle trail of blood following the wooden path leading into town. The old man was overcome with worry and near-despair, prompting him to shuffle through the hanging splinters and rush into the receptional. The youngster followed without hesitation only to walk into a gruesome scene.

The place was a complete mess; overturned tables, broken counter, scattered tools and accessories, and blood—a shit-ton of blood. The cloaked no-good sailor looked towards his senior with concern he’d never admit to, only to find a face frozen in horror. Chasing the target of his horrified gaze, there was only a message to be found, painted on the wall in the crimson shade of blood. Thank you for the payment.



TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyMon Dec 04, 2017 4:13 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.

NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.


 



PAPILLON D. FRAN
“Goodness me, that girl is such a workaholic,” sighed the captain of the marine ship anchored a short distance away from Baterilla, watching the small wooden rowboat slowly approach the docks. “It was so surprising when she said she wanted to come to Baterilla. I suppose even she needs a holiday every now and again.”

A lone woman occupied the rowboat, having refused assistance when offered it despite the inaccessibility of her legs, the only reason she offered being, “I can use my arms just fine.” Her electric wheelchair was across from her and when she reached the docks, the captain observed her through a pair of shiny binoculars, even though he refused to admit his distress for her safety.

“Captain Patch, will we be setting back for Centaurea soon?” asked a seaman.

“Yes, yes, soon,” mumbled the captain absentmindedly, before suddenly swinging the binoculars at him. “Are you crazy?! What if something happens to Fran?!”

“Y-yessir!” stammered the seaman, tears falling from his eyes while he clutched his head in pain. “But...sir, she said she wanted to be left alone and to come back tomorrow evening. Won't she be mad if she finds out we stayed?”

His crew had mostly gotten used to the captain’s fatherly protective nature over his protege, but there were times they couldn’t help feeling sympathetic for him, given that she seemed intent in ditching him whenever possible. But attempt after attempt had failed and this might have largely been owing to the fact that her first major disappearance had made the old man quite paranoid.

“What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” replied Patch with a rebellious huff, before donning the binoculars again. “Damn...she’s already gone.”

***

Fran sighed, wheeling herself down the bustling streets of Baterilla. The contrast between the decrepit state of her own hometown was so jarring, she couldn’t exactly bring herself to relax despite the atmosphere. But she was in desperate need to get away from the suffocating presence of her adoptive father, so desperate she was that she was willing to give the thing called a “holiday” a try. Whatever that meant.

As she made her way through the street of Beach Hope—its popularity among tourists clear with the number of people—she heard a mutter from one of the pedestrians above her, “Out of the way, cripple.” A shadow passed over her features and a vein twitched on her forehead.

“Hold it, punk,” she snarled, snatching his wrist as he passed, her sensitive ears at least able enough to pick out the exact “punk” she was after without mistaking him for another. “Care to repeat yourself?”

The boy she had caught only appeared around fourteen and was what she could only identify as a wannabe “surfer boy” with tanned, orange skin and bleached blonde hair. She didn’t care enough to take in any other features besides this point, only noting with distaste that his flower print shirt was left slovenly open to reveal his stomach.

“Let go, cripple,” snapped the boy. “I have places to be-OW!”

It was like the blow had come from nowhere, from an impossible angle if it had been the disabled woman who had conked him over the head.

“Who was that?” he cried angrily, twisting and turning his bruised head in search for the offender.

“Down here, idiot,” she replied cooly, bringing his attention back down to her.

Hidden in her hand with the spacious sleeves of her kimono was the pile of coins she had used to initiate the blow. With a well-versed flick of her thumb, she could shoot a coin from her hand in the same manner a bullet would be fired from a gun. A second coin was fired to serve as the platform for the first coin coin to use to ricochet off, allowing her to make an invisible attack from an angle that was seemingly impossible for her to make.

“You?!” the boy’s eyes widened with disbelief, ogling the disabled woman he had just moments ago insulted. His eyes fell down to her legs and another blow landed on his forehead.

“Eyes up here,” she grunted, her patience having run dry. “My, who taught you your manners? I wouldn’t mind a word.”

She tilted her head to the side expectantly, her scarlet eyes peering a scorching hole into the boy. He gulped.

“Well, lead the way?” she suggested with no shortage of intimidation and he relented with a humiliated sigh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, turning away and trudging through the crowd with Fran tailing him, expertly avoiding the stampede. “You gonna tell me who you are?”

“No,” she said bluntly.

“I’m Yoon,” he said with a hint of hope in his voice.

“I’m still none of your business,” she replied and he sighed dejectedly.

As they neared their destination, what was wrong was made increasingly clear. They passed a trail of blood and when Yoon traced it to its origin, he let out a fearful gasp and immediately took off, leaving the disabled woman behind. She clicked her tongue, perhaps disapproving his impatience before making her way steadily after him. By the time Fran had arrived at the place with the anchor and wheel, he had already long since disappeared into it. But as she entered, Yoon was making a dash back out and nearly toppled over her.

“I-I,” he stammered, fearfully steadying her chair, his voice trembling.

His fright was enough for even Fran to excuse him for nearly pushing her over and she merely  maneuvered the boy out of her way to peer behind him at the carnage. Her eyes swept over the ruins before stopping and narrowing suspiciously at the black-haired boy, who appeared to be around her own age, and the elderly man beside him.

Cautiously, she dipped her hand into the compartment on the side of her wheelchair. So much for her holiday. Whatever that was.





BY RIMY ♥ OF BTN


________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyWed Dec 06, 2017 8:50 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS 765 TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 3 ❚


The crippled old man hastily approached the expertly illustrated carnage. The implied victim of the supposed crime scene was nowhere to be found. The youngster’s look of concern was still more on behalf of the living than the dead, for the old man’s pulsating veins were on the verge of bursting. Without a word of instruction, the older man set to tearing the place apart in his distraught investigation.

The junior of the duo already had his theories as to what might have transpired; not a one ended pretty for the victim. He busied himself searching through various rooms, clutching at his two holsters all the while, expecting to walk into trouble hungry for a meal of lead.

Of the three rooms he searched, the first two seemed to be inconsequential—used simply for storage of lumber and metal. The last was an untidy office. Half the room was decorated with scattered paper, and the other half with disheveled cabinets and drawers. The square desk against the wall was overturned, and ink still trailed down from the spilled ink pot, tracing the shallow cracks of the wooden floor.


A thick metal safe sat open and empty in the far corner of the office, with no hint of what treasures may have been its previous occupants. This ain’t my business. I ain’t gettin’ paid for this. These were the first thoughts to cross his mind. And yet, his body failed to acknowledge the sensible argument and dared on to do its own thing.

Shifting through the hundreds of scattered, crumpled documents, the detective-of-circumstance came upon an open ledger. The book was well-kept, despite its bindings being improvised with two leather squares and some twine. He skimmed through the written pages of the book only to stop near halfway through. A smudged streak of blue had crossed out a name beyond readability, leaving the entry of that account essentially erased. Whichever fella’s name’s crossed out here’s gotta be the bastard who did ‘im in.” Didn’t seem to be a far-fetched leap, for a gentle wipe across the ink left a faint smear on his fingertips. Fresh.

A few turns of the pages led to the exact same set of entries, with one of them crossed out once more. And again every few pages. With no other obvious items of interest left to scour further, the pseudo-sleuth returned to the main foyer, calling out conspicuously to his partner. ”Oiii, ossan! Get over here! I got somethin’ ta show ya.”

A moment of unsettling silence passed before he heard the steps of his lame former passenger descending the ladder leading to the attic. His frown was no less pronounced, despite the victim’s body still gone with the wind. As they say - “No body, no crime”.

”What is it?! Did you find him?! Where’s the body?” The short young man rolled his eyes, holding up the ledger and slapping it with the back of his hand. ”Calm the fuck down, ossan. Ya ain’t even told me who it is we’re lookin’ for. And I ain’t found nothin’ that flashy. But, I reckoned I might be able ta guess what’s goin’ on after seein’ this.”

The old man impatiently plucked the accounts out of his carefree grip and scanned through them, taking note of the very same unbelonging markings. ”Bad debt? But, it’s impossible to tell who this was owed to.”

The junior clicked his tongue and let slip a snide chuckle. ”Yer a fool, just like the fools who’d done in this frienda yers. They didn’t bother ta erase the dates and the amount. As ya might notice if ya look with them half-blind peepers harder, it’s the same few people yer chum traded with on those days. The others oughta have some idea who this fella might be.”

The ossan seemed mildly impressed, his grey hues sparkling with vengeful determination. ”You might be a no good loafer, but at least you can use that head of yours when it counts. We should get out of here before the authorities show up. I don’t trust the lawmakers enough to get involved with them.” Despite his grievances over using his hard-to-come-by deductions for free, he had no arguments against leaving this disturbing scene.  

But, before they could turn to escape the unamusing enterprise, a startling ruckus triggered the black-haired delinquent. In a split second, the barrels of his twin revolvers peered back at the entrance in all their steely ferocity, a bloodthirsty gaze glowering from behind them. ”Don’tcha fuckin’ move, Deadhead and Wheelie, or I’ll fill ya fulla gutless holes.”


TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN
Butch colour: #fcc16a
Friendly NPC colour: #82ff82

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySat Dec 09, 2017 12:27 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.

NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.

 




PAPILLON D. FRAN

Of the long list of original nicknames aimed to demean Fran for her disability—“cripple” being one of the more popular choices—she couldn’t say she was particularly impressed with “Wheelie”. She was, however, slightly more impressed with the revolvers directed at her and despite her initial cautiousness, she had her own set of pistols aiming steadily back without missing a beat.

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to be making threats,”
she responded, her expression unchanging despite the new—albeit expected—development.

In contrast, the boy she had picked up in town was hardly keeping his cool. His wide blue eyes darted nervously between the two gun-wielding youths, his slackened jaw dangling loosely in amazement. Several uncomfortable seconds passed, until Yoon finally managed to grasp the danger of the situation and he let out a contorted sound that was somewhere between a shrill scream and a fish gasping for air.

Fran winced, but she kept her eyes and pistols trained ahead. “Shut it, kid!” she snapped impatiently. “You don’t want your blood painting those walls too, do you?”

“W-Wait!” he stammered, his tongue too heavy with fear and shock to clearly produce a sentence. “Th-These guys a-aren’t the ones who took my g-grandpa! M-Miss, you seem strong so I want you to h-help me...”

When only silence responded to his words, he swallowed bravely and threw his body between the line of fire. “Listen to me!!” he shouted, his voice finally clear despite the knocking of his knees.

The perpetual furrow between the young hunter’s brows deepened a fraction in response to the boy’s unexpected movement. “Idiot,” she growled, the weapon in her right hand dropping into her lap as she grabbed the boy by the collar and throwing him out of harm’s way.

“Ow!” he gasped as he hit the floor.

With the weapon in her main hand still trained on the hooligan, Fran turned her crimson glare to Yoon as though to warn him against attempting such recklessness again. His body froze as though petrified and trail of cold sweat fell down his cheek, but he stared bravely back. After a moment, Fran sighed and lowered her weapon. She swivelled her chair to leave the unpleasant scene, uncaring for the revolvers still pointing at her back.

“Whatever, let’s go,” she grumbled under her breath, deciding to ignore the “danger” altogether.

If the delinquent wasn’t the culprit for the bloodshed and horror, then she had no interest in him. Wasting her bullets here would be a waste of time, effort and most importantly, money. She was not so charitable as to pump precious metal into such a menial chore.

The boy’s disposition immediately brightened and he scrambled clumsily to his feet. He paused at the doorway, glancing back at the two figures and the scene of ruin that was his home. It appeared nothing of the sort anymore and he could only identify artifacts of the place where he and his grandfather had lived.

Unlike Fran, Yoon had been unable to identify the two individuals with shadows shrouding their features and his hesitation was in part curiosity of their identity and in part speculation to the purpose of their visit.

“Um, sorry if you wanted a ship repaired,” he mumbled cautiously. “Maybe come back...another time?”

Fran scoffed at his words, but despite her disdain, she waited patiently for him to catch up. His face reddened with embarrassment and he ducked his head, hurrying past her. The hunter was silent, her eyes peering into the darkness of the venue at the black-haired boy for a moment longer, waiting to see how he would respond to their abrupt departure, but turning away to follow Yoon if he decided against it.





BY RIMY ♥ OF BTN


________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySat Dec 09, 2017 5:41 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS 617 TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 5 ❚


Testy digits needed little cause to cock the firm hammer back and squeeze the smooth metal curve of the trigger. But, contrary to appearances, the cloaked gunslinger had a respectable amount of self-control. And so, he held his stance when the panicked blond boy scattered around the adamant young lady—who glared back at them with matching intensity.

It was preposterous to think that either of those two new intruders had any part to play in this incidental massacre. More likely they happened to be just another two visitors like themselves who happened to find the shop in this deplorable state. And yet, that sinister stare and those weapons trained towards him ticked him off.

Just as he was about to threaten the newcomers again—ignoring the raven-haired girl’s warning—the youngest of them all spoke in the first wave’s defense. Grandpa? It seemed his guess wasn’t too far off. The wimp maybe had the right to be disturbed by this scene more than all of them. And when the suspicious girl lowered her well-kept weapons, the black-haired youngster sighed and holstered his also.

Still keeping the fussy entrants within his peripheral vision, his eyes momentarily tracked the old man. It seemed the limping bastard had been readier than him to retaliate against any ill-wishing trespassers. Why didn’t I hear the glass shatter? The man was gripping a broken whiskey bottle with a hawkish bearing, at least until he had a chance to come to his senses. And when he did, his furrowed brows parted and melted in sympathy.

A featherbrained comment about “returning tomorrow”, and the two turned to leave already. But the old fart stepped forward into the light before the two left the view of the door frame, calling out to the little punk with an amiable voice. ”Wait!” He tossed the half-bottle aside, holding up his palms meekly to show peaceful intentions.

”Are you little Yoon? Don’t you remember me? My name is Basileus! I used to visit you and your grandfather all the time when you were a child!” If the two young ones would stop and turn, he would go on to explain himself further, approaching the entrance gradually so as to not set off the volatile wheelchaired woman.

”It’s a horrible shame we had to meet again like this. I was bringing this No-Good Butch here to get his boat repaired, but we walked into a crime scene with your grandpa missing. The building was empty when we got here. That young lady there looks like she’s got some firepower with her. Do you know who did this? Or did you walk--” “No-Good” Butch had strolled up close behind him, and with a heavy “tch” he interrupted the suddenly talkative croaker.

”Ya gonna keep talkin’ or ya gonna let 'em talk back? That Whirly-Eyes looks like she might shoot ya for yammerin’.” Butch eyed the ghostly pale woman, his sharp brown features, wild grey eyes, and snarky white grin now lit up by the almost-divine beam falling through the skylight. The brown jacket he wore under the dusty cloth for a cloak fluttered along from a soft breeze peeking through the gaps in the door, dragging in grains of sand to sloppily disguise the blood trails.

The girl’s fuck-you demeanour suggested she’d dealt with useless scum too much. He might’ve mistaken her for a pampered rich kid if it were not for her vacant stare and the swiftness of her draw. No spoiled princess could’ve looked down the barrel of a gun with such determination. Regardless of what her reasons were, Butch’s tolerance of belligerence was never something to write home about. Imagine if he ever had to deal with himself.


TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN
Butch colour: #fcc16a
Friendly NPC colour: #82ff82

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Dec 19, 2017 9:16 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.

NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.



 




PAPILLON D. FRAN

When Yoon had finished the small business he had, Fran turned her chair back towards the dusty path, glancing over the trickle of blood that still remained. Her crimson eyes appeared to take very little interest in the grisly nature of the matter, but there was a subtle shift in her gaze as she traced its course along the road. When Yoon reached her, his eyes were turned to the ground, his sand-coloured hair flopping over them to conceal his emotions. Yet Fran’s sharp eyes caught a glimmer of a tear.

Her blank stare betrayed none of her own thoughts to his obvious show to restrain any further reckless outbursts, but the small, almost unnoticeable, tilt of her head suggested she at least respected his efforts. “Let's go,” she muttered gruffly to the boy.

Light was beginning to fade, something that wouldn’t have concerned the young huntress if it weren’t for her much younger care. She shuffled in her chair for a moment, pulling out a heavy knit blanket from another hidden compartment* with what was supposed to be intricate embroidery of birds, but instead appeared more like estranged caterpillars who had given up the will to pursue their lives as butterflies. Despite the warmth of the imminent night promised by the breeze carrying the remnants of the sinking sun across the island, the markswoman dutifully tucked the edges of the bedraggled blanket around her, fearing the cold she often associated with the rise of the moon.

The boy swiped his hand quickly over his face before lifting his eyes. He had taken on a new expression, one of determination and vigour. Fran let out a strange “haruph” sound, as though to show her begrudging approval...or exasperation. Yoon was ready to lead the way to where he suspected the perpetrators of the carnage to be when a voice appealed to them from behind, or more specifically, to the boy.

“Uncle Basileus?” he stammered hesitantly, peering through the doorways to examine the elderly man’s face as he stepped from the shadows. He was silent for several moments, as though failing to register the old man for who he said he was. It wasn’t until he took two shaky steps back towards the house—his body moving almost against his will—that he seemed to recognise the individual who had been his grandfather’s closest and most trusted friend and had often paid short, but frequent, visits to his old man when he had been younger.

At his recognition of the old man, Fran’s shoulders visibly sank—as if they could sink any lower. Their hasty retreat was quickly being thwarted and her silence could either mean she was willing to allow this reunion to pass at the expense of her time or it was a show of her seething impatience. Fortunately, “No-Good” spoke up to save her from the tediousness that was sure to continue if she failed to find it less tedious to put a stop to it herself.

“I’d rather you not speak for my bullets,” she interjected, leveraging his interruption. She then paused for a moment before muttering, “But yes, keep “yammerin’” and I’ll be tempted to entertain the idea of losing some lead.”

“Sorry,” said Yoon sheepishly, as though to take the blame despite his two words. He turned back to Basileus. “Uncle, what are you doing here? You haven’t been to visit us in years…”

Fran let out a sigh, but just as she was ready to propose that they hurry it along, the sound of a gun firing broke the stillness of the air, just as the sun finally dropped past the horizon and blanketed the world in darkness.

*:
 





BY RIMY ♥ OF BTN


________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Dec 26, 2017 2:31 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS 624 TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 7 ❚


With a nose of wax and a mind as stable as a penny standing on its side, Butch had often been vitriolic with strangers in an attempt to disguise his own insecurities; so much so that his acerbic nature had become him more than anything else. And every little roll of the girl's whirly eyes or contemptuous twitch of her pale lips prodded him to foist her into a world of woe. Fortunately for him, his former patron was ruled by calmer thoughts, despite his superior right to be indignant.

The unfashionable codger approached the little squirrel and his guard dog cautiously, squinting as if to study his features. Not keen on witnessing a “heartfelt” reunion, the no-good dawdler crossed his arms, almost turning sallow with impatience. ”Oh poor boy. I’m so sorry for what’s happened. I’m pleased you remember me. You were so little when I last saw you.” He expected Whirly-Eyes to hurry them again, but the interference came from somewhere else entirely.

A sharp screech and a small, cushioned thud rung into the foyer. Quicker than a jackrabbit chased by a prairie fire, the twin revolvers were drawn and cocked. The distant origin of the sound could not be mistaken for anything other than a gunshot, and yet he had never quite heard that exact sound before—despite his extensive experience testing out a plethora of firearms. ”Get the fuck inside, ya brats! Them’s gotta be the fuckheads who did bunny-boy’s gaffer in.”

A nerve-wracking half-grin-half-frown quivered on the old man’s face, prompting Butch to whistle sharply to get his attention. ”The fuck’s wrong wittcha, ossan?!” The man stood frozen for a moment before he snapped out of it and turned his bloodshot glare towards the others. A rivulet of red wended down the old man’s left arm… ”How the fuck did they hit ya?!”

The man coughed shortly and then spoke, flitting clear of the entrance. ”Listen to me carefully, because I’ll only say this once. The shooter - I recognize the sound of his gun. He’s got nothing to do with the incident here. I’d know if he had. Butch; you trust me, yes?” The blackguard snorted and shook his head decisively. ”Yer outta yer mind if ya think I trust ya cause we sailed ta an island together.”

The old man smiled as if he were half-expecting such a response. ”Money then. You trust money, that much I know.” He removed two of the three gold rings he wore on his fingers and tossed one towards the grey-eyed gunslinger and the other towards Whirly-Eyes. Butch caught the one offered to him, a hypnotizing sapphire beset on its crown. ”Please help Yoon. Leave this shooter to me. I’m sorry for bailing on you like this, Yoon. I promise I’ll return to check on you another day. Take care.”

With not another word of explanation or justification, the old man launched himself through the door with a deafening boom. ”Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi. Don’t fuck with me! This sounds like the plot ta a shitty penny dreadful! I’m shooting that buffer the next time I see ‘im.” And just like that, the cast of this penny dreadful had been reduced to three.

”Fine then,” he said, standing back up nonchalantly and holstering the Twin Sparrows, in spite of his claim of not trusting that basilisk. ”I dunno about Whirly-Eyes, but I like ta finish a job I got paid for. I’ve a list ‘ere ya might wanna look at.” Saying so, he presented the list of accounts between which the name of the suspect was crossed out beyond readability. He hoped the brat might recognize some of the business-doers in the list which they could then interrogate.


OOC Commentary:
 
TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN
Butch colour: #fcc16a
Friendly NPC colour: #82ff82

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySat Dec 30, 2017 9:56 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.

NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.

 




PAPILLON D. FRAN

At the sound of the fire, the wheelchair-bound woman reacted faster than a thought, grabbing the boy without stopping to wonder why she bothered and jabbed one of the various buttons on the arm of her chair. The wheelchair propelled backwards towards the house, seeming to have no difficulty hauling the extra weight of the boy with it. Nevertheless, he found the process exceedingly uncomfortable, stumbling and tripping over his feet with the iron grip of the huntress firm on his collar. In her other hand, she had retrieved the pistol she had dropped on her lap, but her stance was so casual with her arm resting on her chair, that it almost seemed as though she wouldn’t shoot. Only the cool, sharp expression in her eyes betrayed her readiness.

“Uncle!” he suddenly exclaimed, tugging with little effect against Fran’s grip. “You’ve been shot!”

Fran released her hold on him and Yoon lurched forward. The markswoman kept silent and stationed herself close to the door with her pistol still seemingly unengaged in her hand. She heard nothing from outside, no crunch of gravel to indicate any approachers. Tilting her head to peek outside, her expression remained indifferent despite the gravity of the situation, but she immediately sat up straight as the golden ring whistled through the air, catching it with ease.

She examined the shiny piece silently, before encircling it in her fingers and the first smile spread across her lips, albeit a very unpleasant one. The old man stumbled past Fran as he exited the enterprise without another word, not even to the boy who still hadn’t appeared to completely grasp the situation.

“Where’s he going?” he asked, his eyes wide. He glanced at Fran, arbitrarily expecting her to have the answers.

“Who knows, but I’ve just been employed by him,” she replied, pursing her lips. “Before you shoot him, No-Good, I’d like to first have a word with him about irresponsibly throwing work at those on holidays.” Inwardly, she had no complaints.

She approached No-Good, taking the ledger he offered and glanced over the page while Yoon leaned over, reading over her shoulder. He jabbed his finger excitedly at the smudge. “Maybe that’s who took grandpa!”

“Very clever,” muttered Fran before flipping to the next page, ignoring Yoon’s protest. She cast her eye over the page, a small smile twitching on the corner of her mouth.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out what’s smudged, miss?” he asked, knitting his brows with concern.

“Mmm,” she mumbled in response, casting her eyes around the room before wheeling to the fallen dinner table. She bent down, picking up a stumpy pencil from the ground and began lightly shading the page, tilting her head absent-mindedly. Once her task was complete, she glanced over the page again and tossed the ledger to Yoon. “Let’s go.”

Yoon fumbled with the ledger for a moment, glancing at her scribbles and his eyes widened with amazement. A grey circle splotched the centre of the page and amid it was an exact copy of the contents from the previous page, white letters indented on the page from the writer’s heavy press with the pen. Where the smudge had been on the previous page, the letters “Les Malfaiteurs” was scrawled out, clear and precise against the grey page.

“Wait a second, miss! Do you even know where it is?” he shouted after her, before turning to the other youth. “Come on.” He urged before hurrying after the disabled woman.

Within the hour, they stood in front of a French restaurant, the neon words “Les Malfaiteurs” blinking down at them. Yoon was half frozen, beads of sweat rolling from his brow. “What do we do now?” he asked nervously, before realising Fran was already heading inside. “Oh, good idea. Uh, table for three?” He waved three fingers at the dainty waitress with scattered freckles and blonde curls before glancing towards the two youths. “That’s Sweet. This is a family-owned restaurant and she’s the daughter of the owner, Monsieur Jot and the head chef, Madame Rouge.”

He indicated to a thin, weasel-like man with thin, nervous eyes and a triple curl moustache. Through the serving window, Fran made out a hulking shape, an uncomely woman who was only more unsightly when she poked her head out of the window to shout impatiently at Sweet and three other wait staff to collect orders, revealing a set of greenish-yellow teeth. Fran marvelled at how such an ugly couple could produce a pretty girl like Sweet. Perhaps they cancelled each other out, she surmised.

“You know, I can’t imagine the Malfaiteurs kidnapping my grandpa...they’ve always been really nice to us,” said Yoon with a frown.

“I really don’t think we should be discussing that affair so openly,” said Fran with exasperation, glancing around at the various patrons of the restaurant as the waitress pulled a chair away from a round table to make room for her. She smiled shyly, but kindly, down at her.

“Oh, don’t worry! Sweet is deaf as a post,” said Yoon cheerfully. “You can say whatever you want with her around.” He suddenly froze, the air turning frigid. “Sorry, I didn’t mean...” he gulped, dipping his head meekly to avoid Fran’s crimson glare.

“Drink?” muttered Sweet, her words slurred and clunky.

“Not for now,” said Fran, turning to face the girl directly as she spoke and Yoon shrank with relief as her gaze left him.

The waitress smiled, also with a hint of relief and hurried away. Fran grabbed a menu from the pile on the table and rested her chin in her palm, deliberating. “So, what are you thinking, No-Good?”

STATS TRACKER:
 
0 TECHNIQUES |  0 PASSIVES | 0 ACTIVES:
 
DAMAGE TRACKER:
 
TECHNIQUE COOLDOWNS:
 
NPC TRACKER 0:
 




BY RIMY ♥ OF BTN


________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyFri Aug 16, 2019 7:08 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS - TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 9 ❚


The pale whirly-eyed girl had talents Butch didn’t even know existed - riding a chair with wheels being one of them and reading through text obscured with ink being another.

“Ohhhhh! Ya gotta teach me how ta do that some time. That’s some real nice detective work ya did there, miss.” He made no attempts to mask how impressed he was, though his lack of tact surely made him come off as sarcastic. His words were often genuine, but his unrefined and churlish manners never made them seem that way.

He snatched up the repaired ledger first chance he could for further inspection. “Les Malfaiteurs” indeed. This was his maiden visit to Beach Hope; as such, the name meant nothing to him. Luckily, the sparkly-eyed boy knew exactly where to go.

They marched (and rolled) through the streets with a purpose - or at least so one would’ve hoped. With no supervision, Butch was about as rushed as a sloth on a hot day. The younger male hurried him every time he started to fall behind, prompting a mumble and groan out of the trailer in response.

En route to Les Malfaiteurs, the local lad’s inquisitive nature got the better of him despite the armed young man’s obvious disinterest. “Where are you from? What brought you to Baterilla? What do you do? How old are you?” None of these questions were interesting enough to warrant answers, but at the lack of responses from the rolling girl, Butch opted to humour the annoying pup hoping it would sate his curiosity and cage his tongue.

“Flevance. Job. Bounty hunting. Nunna yer fuckin’ business.” The gunslinger’s terse reply muted the boy and allowed their walk to be completed in silence.

The flamboyant lighting and pretty windows of Les Malfaiteurs were likely an attraction for most potential customers. Butch, however, was a man of simple tastes. His audible cringe at the sight of the entrance turned a few heads passing by. Nevertheless, their mission demanded entry into this gaudy restaurant, and so they entered, the flustered boy holding the door for Butch after the girl surged in.

The bored bounty hunter wasted no time in seeking out a seat. He moved and spun a chair on one leg with his foot, simultaneously finding him a foot rest and clearing a parking spot for Frown-on-Wheels. He scanned the room with a lazy gaze, eyeing “Sweet” the sweetest blondie without meaning to. The restaurant’s present clientele seemed not to appreciate the presence of the newly-entered disheveled troop, but when did No-Good Butch ever give a fuck?

The delinquent stretched his scruff to peek into the kitchen, immediately turning his head away when his eyes accidentally fell upon the massive creature at the stove. He forced himself to ogle the lovely Sweet for a moment again in a failed attempt at erasing that unwelcome sight.

“Coffee for me. Black.” Butch replied with an uncharacteristic kind smile. His attraction to her was not diminished in the least after hearing her speak. He made sure to face her directly too when speaking, figuring she was likely a practiced lip-reader - a thought that dumb cunt of a kid did not seem clever enough to divine. A good rule of thumb Butch had come to live by through his time at Spider Miles: Don’t underestimate cripples, bastards, and broken things.

Butch idly consulted a menu, same as the wheeled lady, the “Royale avec Cheese” catching his eye. While the testy reprobate didn’t appreciate being referred to as “No-Good” (At least call me No-Good Butch), he thought better of making a scene before they had a chance to investigate the case of the missing geezer. He turned to face the raven-haired girl, scheming in a half-whisper. “I ain’t seein’ anythin’ outta the ordinary here. Meanin’, if these folks are involved, they’re more subtle than they look.”

Through an earlier survey of the room he had spotted a well-dressed, clean-shaven fat man sitting at a corner table with a second man standing next to him at attention. The man had strangely little presence despite his taste in outfits. He sported an expensive suit with vertical white and blue stripes stretching from shoulders to ankles. A navy blue fedora rested on his sweaty head, no doubt hiding balding, greying hair. A red kerchief was folded in his breast pocket and a golden chain hanging from a button indicated he carried a timepiece.

The man ate with discipline almost akin to a soldier’s, and yet with an entitlement one might see more among royalty. Whenever he would clear his throat—which was too fucking often—the suit waiting on him would refill his ornamented glass, which he would then drink out of.

His quiet scheming continued. “Check out the fat man over there in the suit. I noticed the pissants here have been goin’ outta their way to not look at ‘im. I’d bet mah left nut that man’s a mafioso with a bounty on his head somewhere.” He paused to sip on the hot (and delicious) coffee which had been delivered by the lovely waitress during a break in his whispering.

“Looks talk a lot, and looks say that chair in the corner is accustomed to that elephant's fat ass.” Yoon confirmed the pseudo-sleuth’s hypothesis. “I’ve seen him--” Butch hushed him to a lower volume. “I’ve seen him here before. The Malfaiteurs treat him like a special guest. I don’t know much else though.”

Butch nodded knowingly and continued. “I reckon we could foller ‘im and see what hole the balloon fits into.” He paused to think. “Or, ya know, we could just shake the nest here and see what comes loose.”




TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN
Butch colour: #fcc16a
Friendly NPC colour: #82ff82

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Aug 20, 2019 12:46 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.


NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.



 




PAPILLON D. FRAN


Fran was content enough to listen while someone else did the detective work, even if the delivery of said work was so crude. Having her origins come from the island of Centaurea, crude was a word so weak it couldn’t be applied for the majority of the characters that settled there.

As long as results were produced, she wasn’t one to complain. The huntress made no motion to acknowledge No-Good’s words, only the thoughtful glint in her eyes suggesting she was listening. At the mention of the shady gentleman, Fran glanced cautiously over her shoulder.

“If it weren’t for Sweet brightening the place up, I’d mistake this establishment for the gathering of the hideous,” commented Fran, quickly turning back to avoid capturing suspicion.

There was a hint of amusement in her voice and Yoon perked up, supposing her mood was rekindled after his previous offensive behaviour towards the girl who had somehow managed to capture the quiet affection of the two delinquents in a matter of seconds.

“Most of the patrons come here for her,” he commented, before pausing and blushing sheepishly. “Well...some come here to hassle her though.” Fran sighed, the light in her eyes snuffed immediately and he bowed his head in shame. “It’s not like...I’m one of them…”

Shaking her head, Fran turned her attention back to No-Good’s words and the boy fell silent as they plotted. Mulling over his last words, she couldn’t help breaking out into a chilling grin and Yoon shivered at the sight. She could have passed for an attractive lady if it weren’t for the way her smiles distorted her face. It was almost a blessing she had them in such shortage.

Considering Butch’s difficulty getting from the shipyard to the restaurant in the first place, it was hard to believe he would be so ready to participate in a covert mission. And so, Fran’s choice between the two options he offered was clear.

“Alright, No-Good,” she said, setting the menu aside, and eyed the one she gambled to be her accomplice with a challenging glint. “You seem nimble enough with your firearms. Let’s see if you’re just as quick using your brain.”

Without warning, unless her previous words could be considered as such (which she most certainly thought was ample enough), she gave her chair a strong push backwards. There was a silent whirl as she lurched backwards and she did nothing to restrain herself as she charged into the table behind her, which toppled onto its side with a crash.

The patrons exclaimed and scrambled out of the way. A middle-aged man spewed out a train of swears, but abruptly snapped his mouth shut as Fran pulled out a pistol from her bag and waved the firearm around listlessly.

“Hey, miss!” Yoon’s jaw fell open and he quickly scrambled up to help the confused patrons before freezing at the sight of her weapon. He gulped and took a step back, clearly hoping he’d witnessed enough crossfire activity for one day.

Having drawn the attention of the whole establishment, their targets included, Fran then reached over and grabbed Yoon by the wrist. She wretched his body close to her breast and locked him by the neck with her right arm before shoving the muzzle against his temple. All the while, she never broke eye-contact with her potential renegade.

“What the--?!” cried Yoon, before Fran swiftly clamped her hand over his loose mouth.

Suddenly, her expression changed into a mask of fury. There was something wild about her countenance, her eyes bright with fever and strands of unwieldy hair strewn haphazardly around her crown. Her frown deepened, her grin was now twisted into an expression of unconstrained rage.

“This isn’t what we agreed on!” she bellowed, the hand on her gun trembling with...anger? Yoon eyed the weapon sideways, yelping and struggling to no avail against her iron grip. “I asked for Johne Tracy, not this quivering mess you call his grandson! How am I supposed to get the money Tracy owes me through...this?!” She jabbed her gun into the boy’s head, allowing a cry of fear and pain to escape her fingers for theatrical effect before locking them again.

“Wait, how did you know his na--?” asked Yoon, still struggling and managing to break free for a brief second before Fran knocked the butt of her pistol against his forehead, leaving an angry red mark.

“It was on the ledger, idiot,” she hissed furiously under her breath. “Now, shut up!”

Behind her, at the secluded table with the fat-man and his charge, their eyes were locked on the scene with unconcealed interest. The presumed mafioso boss even had a silly grin plastered across his face and his servant leaned down to whisper in his ear, holding up a thin, sinewy hand to cover his mouth.

Good, thought Fran, watching them through the corner of her eye. Now it was up to No-Good to seal the performance...


Trackers:
 






________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyThu Aug 22, 2019 9:39 am




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS Who cares? TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 11 ❚


Damned was the man who fucked with a frenzied, crippled woman. That nutty chick! She's fuckin' amazin'! Butch was forced to swallow his thrill, lest a shit-eating grin warped his lips and ruined the crazy lady's improvised stage act. It had been a while since he'd run into a brat as wild as himself.

A minute or two ago...

One might have mistaken Butch to be cross-eyed or the like by how his glances bounced between the suited pair and the costumed attendant. Upon her taunt at the "hideous" patrons, he turned his attention to Miss Grump-on-Gears with an indolent twist in his seat.

He was tempted to deride her comment with a "Does that include yer own ugly mug too?" It would've been a lie. Before he loosened his tongue, he caught a glimpse of that distorted smirk on her lips. The kind of smirk that would prompt repulsion from most. The kind of smirk that sent chills down Butch's spine in waves - the good kind of chills, if there ever was such a thing. He was smitten for a brief moment before her sobering frown brought him back to reality.

The haughty challenge placed upon his intelligence by Wheelie had little effect on him. He was never disillusioned about his "act-first-think-way-too-fucking-late" philosophy. Countless avoidable violent incidents in the past were sparked by his tactlessness and his forthright mannerisms. Another one of these incidents was about to happen, but this time, he could not be held responsible.

Butch had a habit of fiddling with the hammers of his pistols when idling. This helpful practice aided his reaction to what hit the rest of the folk in the building like a goddamned train. His tumble backwards upon the pale woman's rampage turned into a comical roll. Yet he managed to turn his fumble into a speedy (though clumsy) draw.

Within the second, his guns were out and ready to aim at...

Right fucking now...

The ghostly girl had gone feral. Butch hadn't a clue what her plan was, but he played along as best he could. "Yer fuckin' dead,  ya cunt! I told ya Johne Tracy got lifted by some cocksucking loser." A wayward peek at the round mobster had their eyes meet, and that's when Butch realised this insane plan could very well prompt action from their target.

A few discreet words were traded between the human bowling ball and his bowling pin of a lackey amid the chaos arbitrated by the raven-haired furiosa. There was little opportunity for Butch to stage another scene in this melodrama (lucky for him, considering his utter lack of acting talents).

A single twitch from the mobster is all it took for the young gunslinger to shout out "Hit the dirt!" Butch kicked their dining table onto its side, flinging his lukewarm black coffee at the wild-eyed woman and freeing Yoony-boy in the process. If only he could've predicted his error.

Had Yoon remained in the clutches of his faux-kidnapper, he might have been omitted from the ensuing volley. The mafioso went out of his way to avoid shooting at the author of this madness, aiming simply at Butch and the dancing (more like fumbling to make a getaway) kid.

The unexpected machinegun fire encouraged the majority of the guests untargeted by the mobster to flee. When the gunfire lulled, Butch—who had taken cover behind the sturdy table and had luckily remained unharmed—glanced side-to-side in search for Yoon. He located him only by a weak whimper.

The kid had hidden behind the high swinging doors of the kitchen. It took a few quiet seconds for Butch to comprehend how the boy had survived after being inadvertently placed in the line of fire. Streams of crimson trailed down the fair visage of the one and only waitress of Les Malfaiteurs. She sat flat beside Yoon, her chest rising and falling unevenly from short breaths. The young lad nearly chewed through his nails hovering over the heroic injured lady.

Butch's brows collapsed outwards into an expression spawned from guilt and rage. True to his character, he wasted no time thinking. While firing a few wide shots at the son-of-a-bitch who shot Sweet, he darted towards the whimpering pair. Without a word, he ducked next to Sweet and hoisted her over his shoulder. The poor girl offered no protest.

The boy in his care required no bidding to follow. They rushed to the backdoor, keeping their backs against the wall as near as they could. The two delinquents and the innocent victim of their shenanigans poured out into the rear garden where the whale of a chef and the gaunt-as-a-rail owner cowered behind a shed. Butch didn't blame them one bit for hiding from danger.

Upon seeing the copious amounts of blood and the pale and sweaty face of her daughter, mother whale cried a song of the sea and came swimming to her spawn. If circumstances weren't so grave (what with his latest target of affection being shot and all) he might have made a ruckus laughing at the chef's attempt at a dash. He almost regretted not witnessing her escape from the shooting. But, circumstances were indeed grave. He couldn't fault the mother for any of her desperate measures to ensure the security of her child.

"Yer girl is a hero. She saved this little brat from getting shot ta shit." He poked the quailing boy with the mouth of his right-handed pistol, Fly, with one eye on the back door and another at the corner of the restaurant; caution against their assailants following after them.

He had not failed to notice how the blue-and-white blob had skipped shooting at the wheelchaired woman. He hoped that the man sought to use her in some way which might allow her to investigate the disappearing of the troublesome "Johne Tracy". Regardless of that development, he knew Yoon and himself had to make like a tree and leave.

The curly-moustached restaurant manager inched closer with wary steps. "You dastardly delinquents! How dare you cause so much trouble?! You've driven away all of my customers!"

Butch's grey-green pupils dilated in a deranged fury and his lips transmuted into a grimace. He marched towards the squirrelly business-owner with heavy steps and, with no hesitation, served the coward a knuckle-sandwich free-of-charge. The owner's nose crunched and collapsed like paper under the hammer that was Butch's fist. All it took was a single punch to knock the scrawny fellow into the grass.

The grimace had not left the young gunslinger when he raged. "Ya spineless cuck! Yer sweet-as-syrup daughter's bleedin' over here and yer more worried about yer shady-ass business? It ain't our fault ya pay yer dues ta scum like that gangster. Go get a fuckin' doctor right now, ya piece of shit!" It took another furious "NOW!" for the piece of shit to be moved to action.

Butch returned to the wailing mother's side and kneeled. "I'm real sorry this happened, misses. I ain't got any moneh, but, I'll come back later and help y'all fix the place up." He delivered the apology with his lips clear in Sweet's view and then turned to Yoon. "Let's get the fuck outta here before we bring more misery."

With an uncharacteristic gentle smile, the bounty hunter took the leave of Sweet and her mother, tugging Yoon along by his hair.

The soles of their boots clip-clopped in a narrow cobblestone alley as they raced away from the scene. He peered up at his elder with tears streaking down his cheeks. "Sweet... S-she.. she saved me."

Butch's gaze remained fixed forward. "I know, ya idiot. She's a fool for throwin' herself in the way like that to save yer sorry ass. A fool, but a kind one."

The only sensible course of action for them was to find a place to lie low. The worst had yet to come.



TRACKERS:
 
❚ Ayu of BTN
Butch colour: #fcc16a
Friendly NPC colour: #82ff82

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Aug 27, 2019 6:55 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.


NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.



 




PAPILLON D. FRAN


It took every shred of her willpower to stay motionless during the entire crossfire, the muscles of her hand twitching and screaming desperately to draw the pistol in her bag or reach for the gearstick of her wheelchair. She had her back positioned to the main assailants and she drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes. Trust your instincts, Fran.

It was the metallic scent of blood that made her eyes fly open again and her head swung to its source before she could catch herself from reacting. It took her a moment to let the scene register; of the beauty falling with her arms flung out on either side of her body, bravely taking a bullet meant for Yoon. When her body hit the ground with an audible thud, Fran’s eyes swung to her former hostage, who was standing completely frozen with his eyes wide in muted shock.

Get down, you idiot! A voice in her head snarled, but she bit her tongue. Her colourless lips were pressed in a hard set line, but betrayed none of the guilt or remorse raging in her blood.

However, Fran wasn’t entirely unfeeling as she let on and the scent of blood, followed by the alarming sight of Sweet’s act of selflessness, managed to trace a faded, barely perceptible second ring around her pupil.

She had chosen the exact moment to act when casualties could be minimised, but she had never expected the girl to leap into the centre of the pandemonium.

Idiot. I'm an idiot!

A flash from the corner of her eye broke her train of thought, quickly subsequented by another round of gunfire, this time from a set of revolvers, and Butch flew into the centre of her vision.

The sight of No-Good’s fearless dash to Sweet’s side sent a wave of relief (and perhaps a hint of admiration) through Fran and reminded her of the reason why she had set the rat’s nest on fire in the first place. By the time Butch had hoisted Sweet onto his shoulder and escaped the scene, Fran had donned a mask of indifference and glacial apathy.

“It seems you were trying to get my attention,” a smug voice sounded from behind her. “Or was I mistaken? You did just seem strangely concerned by that gunslinger boy you were trying to threaten. I do regret involving Sweet, however. I’ve known her since she was a baby, so I’ve become quite attached to her.”

Fran took an imperceptible breath and steeled herself before swinging her chair around. Standing before her was the flashy beach ball and his broomstick of a sidekick. They loomed over her with obvious interest for the disabled troublemaker and Fran lowered her chin. Her countenance took up a wicked smile as she observed the pair of criminals through her black lashes.

“As brief as it was, that boy was my partner,” she stated slowly, as though purposely dragging her words through muck. “But he lost me money. I have no use for a hopeless case.”

“Hah! The girl speaks of hope, Sidyard!” cackled the hairless pig to his retainer. “What do you make of that?”

The beanstalk butler stood with his back straight and his eyes lowered respectfully, but when he was addressed, he raised his startlingly bright green eyes to trace Fran’s form. A shiver passed down her spine. There was something about this man neither she nor No-Good had anticipated.

“Perhaps, she can be of use to us,” suggested Sidyard, his voice so quiet it was barely audible. “She mentioned Tracy, after all.”

His master smiled and despite his unpleasantly full lips, the pearly white teeth lined evenly in his mouth gave his countenance an aristocratic semblance. “Girl, what is your business with Johne Tracy?”

“Same as everyone else, I take it,” replied Fran bluntly. “It’s no secret he had loose fingers when it came to berries. He grasped them as well as he grasped water.”

“Yet his character was favourable enough,” said the fat man thoughtfully. “It’s why most, including myself, were so generous to deal him loans and patiently wait while he paid his dues.”

“Do I look like a patient woman to you?” asked Fran snarkily, flashing a stiff grin. “He made a mistake to trust the good in everyone. I'm sure you can agree, Mateus the Monolith?”

The fat man paused, clearly taken by surprise. For Fran, it was a small feat to memorise the faces embellishing the stack of bounty papers she carried in one of the many hidden compartments of her wheelchair. However, to Mateus, it could have seemed suspicious of her to recall his name in such a manner. It was a risk she was willing to take in order to gain an upper hand. If he concluded her character was just as dastardly as his own, perhaps she could insert herself into his circle.

While Patch had insisted she left her “jobs” behind when she had agreed to take a vacation, he had been careless in his search of her bags and hadn’t quite managed to confiscate all of them. She figured Butch had already caught on, but still hoped the bounty poster she had stuffed into Yoon’s pocket before he had escaped her grasp would prove useful.

“Interesting, and who might you be?” asked the Monolith, a wide grin quickly replacing his initial surprise.

“My name is Fran,”
she said simply, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“Well, then, Fran,” grinned Mateus and waved to his understudy. “This is my right-hand, Sidyard. Now, I have a proposition for you, my dear.” When she didn’t say anything, Mateus’s smile widened. “We have Johne Tracy in our possession.”

This confession elicited a spark of interest in Fran’s eyes, which she made no attempt to conceal. “Go on,” she said, the corners of her lips twitching upwards briefly.

“However, he is proving to be...stubborn,” said the mafioso entrepreneur. “We received intel a few days ago about his acquisition of a devil fruit. Now those are worth a generation of fortune, but he’s unfortunately kept it well-hidden and declared he cannot entrust such “power” to a “cruel criminal” like myself. His words, not mine. I would have put it a bit more eloquently.”

“A devil fruit…” muttered Fran. “How did that bastard…?”

“The man always had the luck of the devil. Fitting he'd stumble across a fruit of the devil,” said Mateus with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The point is, I strongly desire obtaining this fruit. The money alone is motivation enough for me, but its power more so. What do you say? If you can help me secure this fruit, I am willing to impart to you a large sum and more. That should be enough to cover the losses you suffered from Johne Tracy’s dues, no?”

Fran was silent, not a motion in her facial features betraying her emotions or thoughts. Inside, the gears grinded with such ferocity, sparks flew in disarray.

So, Johne Tracy is alive after all, thought Fran, confirming the status of Yoon’s grandfather with relief. At least No-Good and I aren’t on a wild goose chase for a corpse. However, to think they had found themselves in a new goopy mess.

A devil fruit was a word Fran had not encountered before except in hushed amazement and power-hungry myths. She had never been particularly interested in the stories themselves, but now at the prospect of confirming the existence of the mystical crop with her own eyes, Fran couldn’t deny the attraction that blossomed within her.

Fascinating, thought Fran with another of her barely perceptible smiles. If I had known holidays could be so delightful, I wouldn’t have rejected the idea so strongly.

“Alright,” she said aloud. “But what do you want from me?”

Mateus smiled while Fran grimaced in turn. That taut, aristocratic smile was tolerable in small doses, but not when it spread hideously across his cheeks.

“You’re about to find out. So,” he reached a hand across to the wheelchair-bound woman. “Do we have a deal, partner?”

Fran steeled herself against the glacial shudder evoked from the combination of the odious reference to “partner” and the equally odious outstretched hand. Still, she lifted her hand and gripped the man’s sweaty palm tightly with her own icy touch and met his beady triumphant eyes with a bleak stare.

“Deal.”


Trackers:
 






________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyWed Aug 28, 2019 7:34 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS Who cares? TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 13 ❚


The quiet sobs and whimpers from Yoon did not end until his adult-of-circumstance companion delivered a sharp, man-the-fuck-up smack to the back of his head. To Butch's measured delight, a deep frown supplanted the boy's lamenting.

The gunslinger had not failed to look over his shoulders for longer than a dog's breath. Despite his confidence in their unnoticed escape, his instincts advised him towards caution.

The two ruffians exited their stumble through dark, winding alleys into a river of late-night shoppers. The crowd of Beach Hope's night market relieved Butch from his vigilance, though not before he'd fetched the hood of his cloak over his scruffy head.

Streams of lights hanging from two infinitely long cables outlined the edges of the street. The welcoming glow of the blue and pink bulbs summoned a brief pause in Yoon's sulking. But, the cacophony of cheerfulness in this dazzling locale was no place for the cranky crack shot.

"This way! I know a place where we could sit down for a minute." Butch waded through the mass of bodies behind his juvenile companion, who led them to a fenced courtyard. With confidence he had not yet shown, Yoon vaulted over the high fence with a practised leap. Butch followed soon after.

The yard was dark and devoid of movement. The pink light bleeding from the street traced faint shadows of distorted figures. Intrigued by the lifelike shapes of one or two of these figures, Butch attempted to examine the sources of the shadows by stepping closer. He let out an inaudible gasp and stumbled backwards when a wailing woman's face peered back at him from the abyss.

A sneering giggle sounded from where Yoon's steps had ended. "Hehehehe~ It might be dark, but don't think I didn't notice that."

The boy shuffled over to Butch as he leaned over for a second glance at the mute woman. "It's a figurehead."

Butch heard the distinct click and flare of an oil burner. The smirking kid had lit a lantern. He brought the light closer to allow Butch a thorough inspection of the wooden figurine. The shapely lady clutched the end of her stiff dress against her breasts, with her uncarved free hand reaching for some unreachable thing in the sky. The lack of paint on the statue only accentuated her forlorn nature.

The boy somberly commentated while Butch regarded the work of art with some respect. "I made that with my parents." A hint of sadness fell upon his voice, and the light held against his face highlighted a mournful smile.

"We used to live here until my parents died two years ago." He pointed at the outline of an unassuming rear entrance of a single-storey building guarding one side of the courtyard.

The boy forced the kerosene lamp upon Butch before dragging him to the wooden trellis framed against his former home. Yellow and green vines snaked around the crisscrossed wooden beams, reaching up to the gabled roof. They climbed up the makeshift ladder and onto the roof. Butch hooked the lantern to an open end of one of the trellis' beams before lying down next to his relaxed junior.

The stars in the night sky could not outshine the bright market street that stretched quite a long ways towards the docks to the south. Yoon's old place wasn't exactly the most intelligent hideout after their bloody encounter, but it would do for a while.

Butch yawned lazily, infecting Yoon with a yawn almost as loud. "How'd yer folks die?" Yoon was not offended by Butch's tactlessness.

"There was an accident in the work yard below. They were carving a huge statue, but it somehow toppled and..." He paused, surely wondering the same thing that Butch was.

"That don't sound like a fucking accident." Butch never claimed to be a therapist, nor had he advertised himself as a polite individual. Luckily, Yoon had already accepted Butch's inability to express sympathy.

"My grandpa disappeared for a few weeks when my parents died too... He took me in when he came back, but he never talks about what happened. He kept insisting that it was an accident, but--"

"I want a soda."

The interrupting comment took the sorry lad aback. The boy was at a loss for words.

Silence overtook them for a long moment before the younger idler sighed and cast a lazy finger towards a modest convenience store across the street. "They sell soda there..." The glint in his eye betrayed a speck of optimism. ...and ice cream too."

Without wasting a breath, Butch grabbed the boy by his collar and leapt off the roof. He landed in a street clearing as gracefully as a man his height could carrying half a person behind them like a sack of flour. That is to say - he fell flat on his face with Yoon crashing on his back.

The tired gunslinger stood up with a loud groan, entirely ignoring the concerned (and a few flabbergasted) stares from the bystanders. He dusted himself off and wiped the scratch on his forehead coolly, crossing the street without deigning to check on his human baggage.

Butch entered "Rainy Symond's" with a subtle limp in his step. His follower had caught up by now, grumbling all the while.

A satisfying hiss from the codd-neck bottle marked Butch's reception of a lemon cream soda. Butch paid with a fistful of spare change. Yoon looked up at the soda-lover expectantly with a strawberry-walnut ice cream cone in his hand before remembering better.

The boy dug into his deep cargo-pant pocket, retrieving a few wrinkled bills for payment. A crumpled ball of paper spilt out of the pocket in his impatient search.

The familiar cream colour of the paper prompted the carefree gunslinger to pick it up. He took a long sip from the bottle, unwrapping the mysterious page one-handed on the store's counter.

"I knew it! That sneaky bitch is good!" The exclamation almost knocked the dessert out of Yoon's hands.

Butch turned to the boy with a wildcat grin. "Let's go kid! We've got a bounty to hunt!"





COMBAT TRACKERS:
 

❚ Ayu of BTN

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyMon Sep 02, 2019 1:06 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.


NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.



 




PAPILLON D. FRAN


Fran might have taken the time to appreciate the festivity of Baterilla’s nocturnal activities. That is, if she had properly submitted to a holiday, but instead, she found herself trailing silently behind her “partners-in-crime” on the path to interrogate a man she’d never met, but was on a mission to rescue.

Gravel crunched beneath the steady turn of Fran’s wheels as the criminals led her away from the glimmering street lights. Once they were removed from the bustling nightlife, Sidyard dipped his head.

“I’ll get the car,” he said, before stalking away silently.

Fran watched his tall, thin figure disappear back into the crowd before turning to the blanket thrown across her lap. She busied herself in rearranging its folds and tucked the edges tightly around her legs. The night always brought on a chill she could never get used to, though Mateus’s open top buttons indicated her chills were largely unwarranted.

They waited in complete silence for a moment, the din from the market muffled by distance and Mateus lit up a cigar, much to Fran’s displeasure. Yet she said nothing as the Monolith inhaled in short puffs, swinging the brown log up and down as he expertly blew rings into the crisp air.

“I do like this island,” said the mafioso after a drawn out bout of silence.

Fran was tempted to ignore the comment, but after a moment of consideration, she decided she had an image to conserve. “I wouldn’t mind leaving for a sea much further away,” she said simply.

“I was the same when I was younger,” said the Monolith, continuing the meandering chatter. “It used to be my dream to join the marines and become a big shot admiral or something.”

Fran glanced up at him, her brows lifted slightly in a small display of skepticism. Without meeting her gaze, Matues chuckled and blew out a stream of grey smoke without bothering to conjure intricate patterns.

“Surprised?” he asked, almost teasing. “Everyone grows up from fanciful dreams. Do you ever wish you could walk?”

The disabled woman turned away, deciding to ignore the obvious jab. Her silence only elicited another smug chuckle from the man, but his attention was turned away at the sound of an engine popping in the distance.


***


They followed a winding course, but where the path abruptly forked, they took a turn towards the cliff, where it became an uphill trek. Fran’s chair wobbled precariously in the seat beside her as Sidyard navigated the loose pebbles scattered across the road, but her expression betrayed none of her discomfort.

Mateus glanced back briefly, only to turn away with a smirk and the disabled youth swallowed the glower threatening to rise. The moon had made a steady climb with them and by the time an enormous mansion rose in the distance, the silvery crescent cut provided a fittingly ominous backdrop for the shadowy eaves and greenish-gold glow from within.

When Sidyard pulled the automobile around a magnificent fountain, a group of men-in-black spilled from the shadows and helped Mateus out of the car. A couple parted to help Fran back into her chair and she felt her insides collapse with relief as she sank back into the stiff, yet comforting, seat of her wheelchair.

“Welcome,” said Mateus simply and led her into the residence, Sidyard trailing behind after handing the vehicle’s rights to one of the guards. “You’ll have to forgive my impatience, but I will be taking you to Johne Tracy immediately.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” muttered Fran, still mutely seething from the mode of transport they had taken.

“Good,” chuckled Mateus, discarding his cigar into a crystal ashtray.

As they navigated the ostentatiously lit gold and purple halls, Fran was acutely aware of the hidden gazes that followed their every movement. Sidyard trailed behind her, as though to lock her path and limit her to follow the one Mateus led.

Fran appeared to be completely at ease, having retrieved her blankets and wrapped them around her body. Mateus made small chatter again and though she replied in short, single-worded grunts, he seemed entirely unbothered by her lack of interest.

They reached a lift that took them into the lower dungeons, where the dazzling tapestries transformed into dim, flickering lanterns, ghostly moans and deathly cold stone. Fran shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her bony form.

Finally, Mateus came to a stop in front of a cell and peered inside briefly before turning back to Fran with a grin. “This is you,” he said, pulling out a chain with a set of keys attached.

Fran met the challenge in his eyes, before turning to the cell, waiting for Mateus to unlock the door before entering. As the door swung shut behind her, she stared silently into the gloom until her eyes adjusted to find the outline of the man chained to the opposite wall.


TRACKERS:
 






________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyWed Sep 04, 2019 8:06 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS Doesn't matter TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 15 ❚


The violent winds tried their best to force the mouths of the two delinquents shut - to little success. The grungy gunslinger and his barely tolerated companion were as chatty as they'd ever been, despite needing to elevate their volumes to outshout the roaring gales they faced.

"I fuckin' knew it! I knew I'd get ta fuckin' fly one day!" Butch would've proudly flourished his twin revolvers, 'Fly' and 'One Day', if he were not holding on to the spine of the rickety glider for dear life. The boy straddled in front of him didn't seem quite as thrilled about having his feet hundreds of feet off solid ground.

"I don't think this thing was ready to fly yet!"

"Don't be a sour puss! Man up fer once!"

The boy huffed, clutching at the rusted metal frame of the lifeless bird streaking across the blue-grey dawn sky.

Their lips fluttered, and their cheeks rippled from the wild gusts blowing at them, exposing their pearly whites (a misnomer; visits to the dentist were long overdue for both) and rosy gums.

Less than an hour ago...

Two feeble groans followed the first three from a helpless soul. "Stop it, Butch! I don't think he knows anything!" Butch couldn't help but throw one more punch for effect before releasing the scruff of the swindler's neck.

"Quit yer bitchin'. This sunnuva cunt-bucket had this beatin' comin' no matter what shit he knows. Didya not see him con that nice ol' lady?"

The spectators of this street justice looked on with horror, hurrying away only when Butch returned their stares with frenzied eyes. The "merchant of mirrors" sobbed and sniffed, crimson droplets leaking from the cuts on his swollen cheeks. The man's mutated-tomato-looking-face was writ with a kind of terror that one might see in a rabbit about to be devoured by a fox.

"I-I swear on me granny's tangerines! I dunno no Mateus!" Another mousy squeal followed a satisfying thump. "Shut the fuck up, ya bluetard!" Butch flailed his sore fist and blew soothing exhales on his purpling knuckles.

Shrieking whistles sounded out through the dispersing crowd - a comforting sound for victims of crime. "In the name of the law, stop right there!" Fuckin' idiots announce themselves from so far away. It's like they want me ta run away.

Panic overtook Yoon, his head ping-ponging between the incoming popo and his master-in-crime. "We've already asked most of the shops here. We should go!" For once, Butch agreed.

They weaved dextrously through the transient mass of shoppers interrupted only by a sharp whistle and a hoarse voice calling out "Tracy!" A frail man—bearded and balding—waved them over from a narrow gulley between a hostess club and a milliner's shop.

Whistles screeched from both ends of the thoroughfare, driving the daring duo to throw caution to the wind and enter the shady stranger's embrace.

"How did you know my name?" Asked Yoon, hastening after their limping rescuer. The coppers seemed not to have noticed their escape into the shallow canal.

"I was a friend of your grandpa's, a long time ago." They boy halted for a moment until Butch shoved him forward.
"I'm sorry, mister, but I don't remember you."

The man turned his head halfway with a sad smile. "That's not your fault. Your grandpa and I hadn't talked in years. But, that's not important right now. What's important is that I know where you can find the man you're looking for!"

Butch thought the scraggly old man's claim to be a suspiciously convenient coincidence, but after the wasted few hours in search of leads for Mateus the Monolith, he was at his wit's end. "How the hell do ya know who we're lookin' fer?"

Their dubious new ally was now leading them out of the city's limits. A lonesome, rundown hovel awaited them across a few flaxen fields.

"Mateus the Monolith and his gang of cruel bastards make much of their money through usury and protection rackets. Mateus takes particular interest in plying his trade on artisans." The man's sombre tone was convincing enough.

Butch swatted a few crops brushing his lips while they drudged through the field. "And yer one of da many craftsmen who borrowed from 'im?" A nod from the cornball confirmed Butch's assumption.

"Johne Tracy builds things that sail. I build things that fly." Yoon's eyes sparkled with sudden interest. "You're Wilbur Orville! My grandpa talks about you all the time! He said that you and him built a flying ship together once!"

Butch coughed, choked, and then exploded into a rude guffaw. His laugh carried across the meadow like a monkey's hoots. "Grow the fuck up, ya pea-brained pringle! There ain't no such thing as a flyin' ship!" His laugh was sliced short by an unamused comment.

"Ah yes! The Adrestia, we called it! We built it together during our time in the New World. It was for Basileus' crew - you might have heard of him." Yoon's ears perked up at the mention of the old codger, but his enthusiasm couldn't compete with the mindfuck Butch was struggling through.

"Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! Hang the fuck on! New World?! Basileus' crew?! Why are y'all yappin' like yer serious?!" Butch's inquisition was met with sobering silence.

He stumbled a few steps back in his attempt to digest these discoveries. A thing that he believed to be outside the realms of possibility was, in fact, very much real. A flyin' fuckin' ship!!! I neeeeed iiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt!!! He unwittingly caressed Fly's grip, fiddling with its hammer.

Butch drew deep soothing breaths before his childish excitement got the better of him. "Yer gonna have ta show me some proof if ya really are the craftsman ya claim ta be."

With a confident glimmer in his eye, Wilbur hurried them to the back of his derelict workshop. A large wicker basket sat on the grass, countless ropes tying it to a massive piece of cloth spread on the ground. Butch kneeled to feel the material in the dark. Its slippery and tight texture was something he'd never touched before.

"It's a hot air balloon," Wilbur declared, attaching an unnaturally red seashell to a gadget that each one of the thick ropes passed through. The engineer pressed the centre of the seashell, lighting a bright and powerful flame that blew into the cloth.

It was no surprise for the younger of Wilbur's guests to be observing with keen interest; but, even Butch was thoroughly engaged. The respectable inventor (Butch was quick to change his opinion of him) invited them to step into the basket with him.

The wicker hamper was roomy, albeit littered with junk that made it seem less so. Butch and Yoon were too busy gawking at the inflating balloon to ask any intelligent questions. They gasped in unison when a flap of the stretched cloth signalled the balloon reaching its capacity for hot air.

"Ohhhhh. Are we going ta fly like this?!" Butch's voice had lost its brash tone, instead replaced by a youthful timbre.

Wilbur shook his head and pointed at a folded contraption sitting in the corner of the basket. "The best part has yet to come." Waves of thrill buzzed down the spines of the two starry-eyed passengers.

The hot air balloon ascended the soft darkness, reaching for the stars undetained by gloomy clouds. The boys shivered where they stood. Butch selfishly bundled himself in his cloak without offering Yoon a share of the warmth. Thousands of orange, red, green, and gold lights of Beach Hope formed together like a swarm of fireflies. The rest of the island was bathed in darkness, only a few 'fireflies' glowing along the far coasts. The ocean engulfing the dark edges of the coast shimmered as if covered by a million jewels.

Wilbur pointed to a small grouping of lights while pulling on the thick cord that powered this small wonder of the world. "Those lights you see near the edge of the island... that's Mateus' mansion. You'll likely find him there at this time. It would take you hours to get there by any other means. You're going to ride the Alfine Swift there." He motioned towards the mysterious contraption again.

"That thing don't look like it can fly," noted Butch with an acidic tone. Orville replied with an expressionless retort, "Neither do you, young man. But fly, you shall!" Yoon chuckled, his arms hugging his chest in defence against the chilly breeze. Butch was compelled to believe the old balloonist, if only by his own hopes.

After reaching an uncomfortable height, Orville scratched his crooked nose and clicked his tongue. "Alright, now listen carefully. You two are going to saddle up on these seats here and hold onto the rail." He lifted the Alfine Swift with Butch's help, hoisting it near the edge of the basket. The device looked like a bicycle with no wheels and a folded canopy planted on it.

The two riders followed the instructions provided. "When I say 'go', you will pull this here string hard. Once you do, use these two handles to pivot the Alfine. It'll feel natural when you're in the air." With that dangerously brief lesson delivered, Wilbur unhooked a latch, dropping a portion of the wicker basket's wall before kicking Alfine's rear.

A sinking feeling enveloped the pit of their stomachs as the Alfine Swift fell with its two mounties. They clung to the frame like leeches, desperate screams tearing their vocal cords. And yet somehow, even through their distress, a shout reached them.

"Goooo!"




OOC:
 

COMBAT TRACKERS:
 

❚ Ayu of BTN

________________________________________________________


Last edited by Butch Castle on Tue Sep 17, 2019 11:12 am; edited 4 times in total
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySat Sep 14, 2019 6:10 am

Fran uses MT (Bite of the Red Hot Chilli) on Sidyard
Fran uses LT (Frenzy Eyes) on self.
Fran uses LT (Dethrone the King) on Sidyard.
Fran uses UT on Sidyard.

Sidyard uses MT on Fran.
Sidyard uses LT on Fran.
Sidyard uses LT on Fran.
Sidyard uses UT on Fran.

________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
NPC

NPC

Tracker

Name : Variable
Epithet : Variable
Age : 0
Race : Variable
Faction : Variable
Crew : Variable
Ship : Variable
Crew Position : Variable
Devil Fruit : Variable
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 0
Defense (DEF) : 0
Reflex (RX) : 0
Willpower (WP) : 0
Level : 0
Experience Points : 0
Bounty : Variable
Berries : Variable
Posts : 339

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySat Sep 14, 2019 6:10 am

The member 'Frenzy' has done the following action : Dice Roll


#1 'Reflex Check' : 16, 18, 7

--------------------------------

#2 'Reflex Check' : 16, 15, 14, 17
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Frenzy

Frenzy

Tracker

Name : Papillon D. Fran
Epithet : Frenzy Eyes
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 70
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 70
Willpower (WP) : 45
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 50,000
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Child_11
Posts : 38

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptySun Sep 15, 2019 7:31 am




 
...HOW FOOLISH.


NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME.



 




PAPILLON D. FRAN

The jail door swung shut with a bang like the sound of a final conviction. It took only several seconds for Fran’s vision to adjust to the gloom and she stiffened to find the man before her was staring directly back at her.

He was a thin man with a hawk-like face, long black hair falling down to his shoulder and a scruffy beard. His skin was blotted with sun spots and dried blood. Yet despite his battered state, it was clear he was not broken; he returned Fran’s cool gaze with one of fixed intensity. Her lips twitched upwards.

“At ease, sir,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “My name is Fran.”

Smiling coldly, she pushed the joystick of her wheelchair forward, before roughly grabbing the man, Johne Tracy, by his thick locks. She jerked his face back and he let out a groan of pain.

“I’m not saying anything,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

His words elicited another smile from the normally expressionless sniper and she reached casually into her pouch. Johne Tracy flinched. However, when she withdrew her hand, she held the ring Basileus had provided as payment pinched between her slim fingers.

The jewel gleamed even in the limited light provided under the meager glow from the small barred opening of the cell door. Fran held it close to the prisoner’s face and he stared vacantly at it, until recognition widened his eyes fearfully.

“You fucker--!”

Fran immediately shoved her palm over his mouth, her surprisingly strong grip evoked a startled muffle from the man.

“Quiet, I obtained this through legitimate means,” she whispered, though the amused glint in her eyes seemed to tell otherwise. “Basileus employed me, along with a No-Good punk, to get you safely (relatively, anyway) back to your grandson. Understand?”

The cell fell into silence as neither moved. Johne Tracy studied the woman under a sharp, unwavering glare, something Fran received with an approving, if not slightly audacious, chuckle. She released the man without another word, delighted when he didn’t attempt to slew insults at her again.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he hissed quietly. “And is Yoon safe?”

“He’s with No-Good,” said Fran simply, without further explanation. “And you don’t know. All you can do is gamble and concentrate on our immediate dilemma of getting you out.”

Tracy fell silent, before letting out a complacent sigh. “Fine. I’m assuming you having come this far, you’ll have a plan in mind?”

“Something like that,” said Fran and she glanced over her shoulder at the cell door, where Mateus and Sidyard conversed in hushed voices.

She turned back to Tracy, but before she could say anything more, Mateus rapped on the cell door. “Hey, any luck?”

“Eventually,” replied Fran, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the round-bellied man.

“Fine,” said the mafioso. “Let the guards know when you’re done.”

She didn’t say anything and listened as two sets of footsteps retreated. She felt the silent presence of two black suits manifest in place of Mateus and Sidyard, standing at attention. Turning back to Tracy, she returned his distrustful scowl with a sigh.

“I don’t necessarily need your trust to make this work, but at the very least, I need you to walk on your own or I’d knock you out,” she said bluntly.

“Why don’t you tow me?” he suggested dryly.

“Hush, don’t tempt me,” she replied, but her eyes had softened; it was clear she found the old man’s spirit commendable enough.

“You said you had a plan,” reminded Tracy.

Fran smiled briefly, but it quickly disappeared under the cold indifference of her mask. “Why don’t you tell me yours first?”

The old man froze, staring blankly up at the disabled woman. “What makes you think I have a plan?”

The huntress sighed and shook her head in exasperation, gesturing impatiently to his restraints. “Your chains don’t appear to be made of Sea Prism Stone, so you must have a reason why you haven’t broken out yet. Not to mention, your old friend, Basileus, is clearly a man who traveled the Grand Line. I wouldn’t be surprised if you accompanied him at some point and have the ability to break out with or without the fruit.”

“How did you know…?” gaped Tracy, his blue eyes, which were an identical copy to his grandson’s, widening with a jolt.

The young woman paused for a moment before replying. “I suppose I don’t lose anything by telling you,” she said, shrugging. “The first one is simple. Mateus is a powerful man. I had heard a few rumours about him before coming to Baterilla, but it was his automobile that really threw me off.

“It takes more than wealth to transport luxury items of that proportion to an island like Baterilla,” she continued. “I doubt someone with his influence, on his own home turf no less, would fail to find something if he used all his manpower to scour the entire island. Which led me to think that you must have entrusted the object he was searching for with someone. Feel free to correct me if I stray from the truth."

When Tracy continued to hold his tongue, Fran sighed. She didn’t particularly enjoy the sound of her own voice, but she couldn’t deny wanting to hear Tracy’s story herself. While she had never been particularly interested in nosing through business that wasn’t her own, the story so far intrigued her like the mystery novels she often consumed in her free time.

“However, given the condition of your monetary state, I surmised you had few people you would trust the equivalent of millions of berries to,” she continued, idly rubbing her dry throat. “And you certainly weren’t going to leave the power of devils with your beloved grandson. So, that left only one person.”

She paused, as though for dramatic effect, and a chilling grin spread across her colourless cheeks.

“You ate the devil fruit,” she said, her crimson eyes flashed fiercely.

Her listener’s jaw had fallen in astonishment. “U-Unbelievable!”

But Fran only smiled shortly. She had fallen silent now and only met Tracy’s eyes expectantly. Now, she waited. It was Tracy’s turn to sigh and he lowered his face, closing his eyes.

Gradually, his skin began to harden like wood and by the time his eyes fluttered open again, his entire body had taken on an oaken texture with spikes protruding from his jaw where his beard had been. He met Fran’s watchful gaze for a moment--and then his body suddenly shattered.

The huntress stiffened, her fingers gripping the edge of her chair tightly, but then promptly relaxed. There was a soft clatter as the wooden parts fell to the ground, creating a small mountain of cubes, and sitting on the top was a small, wooden doll.

“I haven’t had the time to find out the name of the fruit yet,” Tracy’s voice came from the doll. “But it looks like I can assemble and disassemble my body like a wooden doll. Suits me quite well, if you ask me.”

“Interesting,” said Fran, her wide, eerie smile returning as her eyes shone. “This is my first time seeing a devil fruit-user in action.”

The doll’s black eyes seemed to soften under the disabled woman’s show of admiration.

“If you ever have the chance to travel to the Grand Line, you’ll find a great number of them,” he hopped off the pile of wooden parts and by the time he hit the ground and straightened, he had assembled himself into a human-sized doll and his skin was returning to it’s fair, soft texture. “And speaking of which, how did you figure out Basileus’ identity? I take it you didn’t know him long, after all.”

“I only knew him for less than ten minutes,” she replied. “And it’s all conjecture, unlike the answer to your devil fruit powers.”

“I had hoped I’d done a good job at hiding it,” grumbled the old man. “You’re simply too clever to deceive.”

“Nonsense,” chuckled Fran, before holding up Basileus’ ring again. “And I started thinking after seeing this.”

The old man fell silent, but he was now listening with renewed intensity.

“It’s not a stone found anywhere in the South Blue,” Fran took up the narrative again. “In fact, even though it looks like a jewel, the composition looks a little off upon further inspection.”

She passed the ring over to Tracy, who took it and studied it, though it was clear he did it only at a glance. “The ‘stone’ is actually a ‘shell’, correct?” she asked and Tracy nodded without a word.

“But the ring isn’t made from any old seashell,” continued Fran as Tracy passed the ring back to her. “Grinding up seashells and polishing them into a single stone wouldn’t produce results like this. This is polished from a single shell, but the most defining trait to this shell are these silver-blue veins running through it. It runs unbroken through the entire stone, so it couldn't possibly have been grounded up first,” She ran a nail gently over the surface of the stone. “Opal...quite beautiful…”

Smiling, she glanced over at Tracy who still watched her intently. “Opal can be found in fossilised shells, but there exists a turtle that produces liquefied silica and hardens it to reinforce fissures in its shell. In other words, it can produce live opal. And the most defining trait to this turtle's opal are these distinctive golden specks scattered through the opal.

“This creature can only be found in one place in the entire world and was hunted to near extinction before the royal family of its island placed it under strict protection twenty years ago,” she continued. “Yet the thinness of the opal veins in this ring indicate that the turtle was young when the ring was made, meaning it was crafted after the act of hunting the turtle was outlawed; he might have even harvested it himself.”

She paused to rub her throat bemusedly. “Now, this turtle is called the Rainbow Turtle and like I mentioned earlier, it can only be found in one place in the entire world: Fishman Island, an island that sits directly under the wall separating Paradise from the New World. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that old Basileus traveled the New World too!

“And that, along with the way he moved like a skilled fighter, is how I came to the conclusion that Basileus was a veteran from the Grand Line.” And with her deductions concluded, she fell silent.

“Incredible,” sighed Tracy. “You were almost spot on.”

“Almost?” repeated Fran, pursing her lips. “Shame.”

“Don’t be disappointed. That ring was actually made from synthetic shell to replicate a real Rainbow Shell,” he said, grinning smugly. “The thin opal veins aren’t from slaughtering a young, inexperienced turtle. Basileus loved the work of artisans and a member of his crew made that ring for him.”

“I see,” she lifted the ring up, her eyes doing little to contain her wonderment. “My eyes aren’t trained enough to discern a real from a fake when this is my first time seeing Rainbow Shell, but this is still impressive work.”

“Your eyes are clearly trained enough to identify the stone for Rainbow Shell,” he said bluntly, before shaking his head. “Alright, I’ve decided your intellect is at the very least worth trusting. Now, your plan?”

“Don’t have one,” she said, pocketing the ring. “I knew you’d have one.”

Tracy paused again, his eyes still wide. Then, he shook his head. “Your confidence is too much; a stupid decision that could have cost you your life. But you’re right. How about you get us out of this cell first?”


“My pleasure.”











OOC:
 
TRACKERS:
 

________________________________________________________

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Z7xzZYw


Alts [Main][2]
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Sep 17, 2019 9:27 am

Butch uses AoE on Mateus and Co. (DoT - Didn't mama teach ya not ta play wit' fire?!)
Butch users UT on Mateus and Co.

Mateus and Co. use LT on Butch.
Mateus and Co. use LT on Butch.
Mateus and Co. use UT on Butch.

Note for Alice-chan:
 

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
NPC

NPC

Tracker

Name : Variable
Epithet : Variable
Age : 0
Race : Variable
Faction : Variable
Crew : Variable
Ship : Variable
Crew Position : Variable
Devil Fruit : Variable
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 0
Defense (DEF) : 0
Reflex (RX) : 0
Willpower (WP) : 0
Level : 0
Experience Points : 0
Bounty : Variable
Berries : Variable
Posts : 339

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Sep 17, 2019 9:27 am

The member 'Butch Castle' has done the following action : Dice Roll


#1 'Reflex Check' : 18, 14

--------------------------------

#2 'Reflex Check' : 16, 7, 3
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Butch Castle

Butch Castle

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Coolte13
Tracker

Name : Butch Castle
Epithet : No-Good
Age : 19
Race : Human
Faction : Bounty Hunter
Crew : N/A
Ship : Little Castle
Crew Position : N/A
Haki Level : 0
Attack (ATK) : 80
Defense (DEF) : 50
Reflex (RX) : 85
Willpower (WP) : 50
Level : 1
Experience Points : 100
Berries : 5,050,000
[childofdestiny]
Posts : 108

[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. Empty
PostSubject: Re: [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.   [Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot. EmptyTue Sep 17, 2019 9:23 pm




E
AT LEAD, SUCKER!
THIS IS NO GOOD
WORDS Doesn't matter TAGS @Frenzy POST COUNT 17 ❚


"Buuuuuuuuuuutch! How the hell do we get dooooowwwnnnn?!" Yoon squealed as the Alfine Swift soared through the early morning mist. The pair of troublemakers were fast approaching the garish estate lumbering atop a solitary cliff.

"I don't fuckin' know!" Butch shrilled back, his voice cracking with panic. "'It'll feel natural' mah left asscheek! That kooky hagé is gonna get us killed!" The impending sense of doom had fully eclipsed Butch's thrill for the flight.

The bounty hunter tugged the left handle and then the right to test the glider's reaction. The Alfine responded to the physical commands by rolling in the intended directions smooth as a swallow.

They were almost upon the ostentatious home of Mateus the Monolith. Yoon could barely make out the tall tinted windows of the ominous rats' nest. Mateus' villa was a structure straight out of a children's mystery novel. A foreboding stone wall, a sinister garden with an expensive marble fountain, a gloomy willow tree - it's as if the architect were checking boxes off of a list of stereotypes. Yoon could even swear the strange stone figures sitting atop the gate's pillars looked like gargoyles, though the boy's imagination was known to run wild at times.

The inevitability of a crash landing settled in the wavering hearts of the flying fellows. Exhausting all other ideas, Butch was determined to make their loud entrance count. "Ya better hold on tight, ya brat, or yer gonna be scraping yerself off the pavement!" Butch pushed forward on the handles, pitching the glider forward until the nose was pointed at a wide bay window on the topmost floor.

The pair of party crashers screamed as they smashed through the glass and clipped the wings of the Alfine Swift against the limestone wall. They landed into a dim foyer with little more than the Alfine's bicycle-like frame. The dead metal bird came to a screeching halt, somehow failing to buck its passengers off.

Butch and Yoon gawked at each other, dumbfounded by their lack of injuries. An alarmed voice stole their attention.

"What the hell just happened?!"

"It came from upstairs!"

"Let's go!"


Butch dismounted the Alfine with a full sweep of his leg, kicking Yoon off while doing so. Yoon was quick to get back up on his feet, perhaps thanks to the adrenaline.

While making their grand and non-covert entrance, the dynamic duo had knocked over a few candelabra which had set some curtains alight. Only now did they realise the flames were spreading. [ AoE DoT - "Didn't mama teach ya not ta play wit' fire?!" ]

Butch drew his Twin Sparrows, and at the end of that single coordinated motion, he fired both pistols, gutshooting two mafioso suits rushing up a broad, carpeted staircase.

Frantic shouts came from the floors below. Butch hurried to one of the injured goons and clutched his collar, lifting his head and shoulders half a foot off the stairs. The victim of Butch's lucky shots groaned in pain. "Where do ya keep yer pris'ners?!" He howled.

Too weak to put up a physical defence, the thug only resisted with a caged tongue. Butch did not repeat his query a second time without escalating his threat. He poked the smoking gunmetal barrel of One Day between the gangster's lips and thrust the weapon forward until half the length of the barrel violated the inside of his mouth.

Cocking the revolver's hammer, Butch probed again with a colder voice. His pupils shrank and quivered like a predator's. "Where... do ya keep... YER FUCKIN' PRIS'NERS?!"

Trails of sweat leaked from the helpless villain's temples as he tasted hot steel. The man let out muffled groans before speaking gibberish.

"Huuuuuuhhhh?! I don't understand ya!" Butch curled a finger around the trigger and raised the rear end of the gun, exacerbating his interviewee's panicked breaths.

"Maybe you'll understand him if you remove your gun from his throat." Yoon murmured.

Butch snorted and obliged, pressing the tip of One Day against the hooligan's forehead instead.

"T-the dungeons are underground! Y-you have to take the lift on the east end of the castle... It's that way..." The small fry pointed towards the end of a gold and purple corridor.

The expanding blaze they'd ignited was now roasting the upper floor like a stone oven. The balcony's railing had started to collapse. Angry warcries neared, forcing the two intruders to act upon the intel they'd acquired.

The metal cage housing the cola-powered lift was easy enough to find. The monstrosity was a direct contradiction to the mansion's classy decor. Butch heard loud cranking noises that sluggishly moved a metal box up to their floor.

As the lift's gate slid open, Butch felt as if he were opening Pandora's box. He had fallen upon the target of his hunt. It was Mateus and his lanky lackey!

Before the fat crook could pull his weapon, Butch sprang forward and delivered a strong uppercut to the Monolith's jaw. The man's eyes nearly rolled up into his head, and he foamed at the mouth before slumping to the floor, unconscious. [ UT ]

Before his attendant could react, Butch already had a revolver pointed right at him. "Fuckin' hell! That was way easier than I thought it'd be! Yer boss didn't deserve that bounty they put on 'im if this is all it took ta knock the daylights outta 'im."

Mateus' companion placed his hands behind his head in complacence, stepping out of the elevator as instructed by a wave of one of Butch's guns.  

"Look through the fattie's pockets, boy-o. See if ya can find anythin' useful." Yoon complied with cautious pats on Mateus' suit pockets.

"I suppose the time had come for darker things to come back to light," confided the thin butler. A slow crescent smirk decorated his face as he resumed. "You meddling ruffians should've minded your own business. It was a mistake bringing this child here. Now he'll die because of you."

Before Butch could squeeze the trigger, a blade flew at him and pierced his shoulder. [ LT ] Butch yelped and faltered backwards, dropping both his guns. The manservant poser advanced up to him with grim steps and then pressed a foot against his chest while unsheathing a bloody knife from his shoulder. "Ciao." A powerful kick pushed the stunned bounty hunter straight through a glass window, condemning him to a fall six or seven floors down that would no doubt end in blood and broken bones.

In a rare moment of lucidity, Yoon had succeeded in locking the lift's gate and directed it to the lowest floor with repeated unnerved presses of a button. Certain of Butch's demise, his only hope was to find an ally to aid his escape.




OOC:
 

COMBAT TRACKERS:
 

❚ Ayu of BTN

________________________________________________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
 
[Episode] Ya don't gotta stand up ta shoot.
Back to top 
Page 1 of 1
 Similar topics
-
» Dragon ball Gt Dvdrip(ιαπωνικός ήχος και ελλ. υποτ.) ΤA LINK ΑΝΤΙΚΑΤΑΣΤΑΘΗΚΑΝ
» MLP Season 2, Episode 19: Putting Your Hoof Down
» What Episode is This From?
» Episode 01: Buried Secrets! Enter Guy Stratus! [JOB - Atsu and Mashyuu]

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
Revival Dawn - One Piece RP :: Roleplay :: The Blues :: South Blue :: Baterilla-
Jump to: