09-22-2016, 11:13 PM
While he had managed to fix most of the damage done to his right arm Mal was having difficulty repairing the other one. While Kuzuru’s blades weren’t quite sharp enough to carved through the metal limb they did manage to inflict substantial, and probably irreparable, damage. The ex-bio-shell commander had experience with cyberkinetics he was not a skilled mechanic. Still he carried a small set of tools with him and tried his best. However, he did not make it far before their was a knock, followed by some shouting, at the front door. He looked at his arm and tried to move it. There was a spark and a twitch, but ultimately his left forearm was little more than a shapely length of deadweight. He frowned. There was another knock at the door. Mallory looked over at Charles, who sat watching television oblivious to the going ons around him. Mal spoke, “hey big guy, go answer the door will you?”
“Answer it yourself,” Charlie said, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke, “I’m watchin’ the telly I am.”
“Oh come on ya dickhead,” Mallory held up his limp-wristed left arm and continued, “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
Charles grunted, flicked the ash from his cigar, and finally he stood. The lumbering behemoth of a man hadn’t bothered to change clothes since his tussle the previous day. His sleeveless shirt was stained with sweat, ash, dirt and a small splatter of blood. Even the tattoos that crawled up his meaty arms seemed blurred and faded. Hell, he hadn’t even removed his mud-crusted boots yet. With resignation to his fate he grabbed his revolver from the dining table, took a moment to make sure it was loaded, and set towards the front door. He mumbled to himself, some harmless chiding aimed towards his friend Mallory. Charlie came to the front door and slid it open, keeping his gun pointed towards the newcomer.
“Hello there,” he said, “sorry to say it miss, but we don’t allow solicitors on our property.”
Deathtrap edged in close, ready to protect Gaige from the potential threat. Charles noticed this, but did not care. He was tired and not in the mood for caring. The girl said, in an annoyed tone, “Uhhhh, we’re here for a job, sooo....” The man said nothing, and he shifted his cigar around in his lip. He looked back over his shoulder and lowered the pistol. After another few seconds of awkward silence Gaige cleared her throat, “ahem.”
“I’m trying to remember what the boss said,” Charlie said and scratched his temple with the barrel of his gun, “he said that a few more people were coming to join us and that ‘if they looked like they could fight let them in’ you’ve got guns and claws which is good enough for me, come on in.”
With a bit of trepidation the visitors followed Charles. They walked through a hallway that carved through the heart of the mountain. At the end they came to an atrium that acted as a common area. Charlie’s television was still playing. It cast melodramatic voices across the otherwise silent room. Mallory took notice of the newcomers, but said nothing and continued tinkering with his broken arm. Charlie spoke over his shoulder as he walked towards the bedrooms, “I’ll go get the boss, make yourselves at home.”
Kuzuru had just laid down for sleep, finally being able to catch some much needed Zs when three hards raps smacked against his door. He groaned and shuffled out of bed with an urgency usually reserved for geriatric patients. With half-opened eyes and a scowl he opened the door. Charlie nodded towards the common area and said, “your friends are here.”
“What?”
“The ones from the Dataverse,” Charles said and turned around, “there I told ya, I’m going back to the telly.”
Kuzuru sighed. Who knew running a mercenary guild would be so bothersome? He shuddered and stepped out into the hallway. He had shed his regular clothes in favor of red silk pajamas. He had no interest in changing for the newcomers, and he debated on whether or not to greet them at all. After a short deliberation he decided it was best to come and socialize with the newcomers. He stepped into the common area and said, “welcome aboard! As you can see you’ve caught me at a bad time, but I’ll take a minute or two to introduce myself. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the boss here and I go by Kuzuru, really I’m a nice guy.” Mallory blew a raspberry, but the demon ignored him, “feel free to take an empty room, decorate it as you like I don’t really care. I’m heading back to bed, we’ll reconvene in the morning. Ciao!” With faked enthusiasm he smiled, turned on his heels, and left the group to their own devices.
“Answer it yourself,” Charlie said, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke, “I’m watchin’ the telly I am.”
“Oh come on ya dickhead,” Mallory held up his limp-wristed left arm and continued, “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
Charles grunted, flicked the ash from his cigar, and finally he stood. The lumbering behemoth of a man hadn’t bothered to change clothes since his tussle the previous day. His sleeveless shirt was stained with sweat, ash, dirt and a small splatter of blood. Even the tattoos that crawled up his meaty arms seemed blurred and faded. Hell, he hadn’t even removed his mud-crusted boots yet. With resignation to his fate he grabbed his revolver from the dining table, took a moment to make sure it was loaded, and set towards the front door. He mumbled to himself, some harmless chiding aimed towards his friend Mallory. Charlie came to the front door and slid it open, keeping his gun pointed towards the newcomer.
“Hello there,” he said, “sorry to say it miss, but we don’t allow solicitors on our property.”
Deathtrap edged in close, ready to protect Gaige from the potential threat. Charles noticed this, but did not care. He was tired and not in the mood for caring. The girl said, in an annoyed tone, “Uhhhh, we’re here for a job, sooo....” The man said nothing, and he shifted his cigar around in his lip. He looked back over his shoulder and lowered the pistol. After another few seconds of awkward silence Gaige cleared her throat, “ahem.”
“I’m trying to remember what the boss said,” Charlie said and scratched his temple with the barrel of his gun, “he said that a few more people were coming to join us and that ‘if they looked like they could fight let them in’ you’ve got guns and claws which is good enough for me, come on in.”
With a bit of trepidation the visitors followed Charles. They walked through a hallway that carved through the heart of the mountain. At the end they came to an atrium that acted as a common area. Charlie’s television was still playing. It cast melodramatic voices across the otherwise silent room. Mallory took notice of the newcomers, but said nothing and continued tinkering with his broken arm. Charlie spoke over his shoulder as he walked towards the bedrooms, “I’ll go get the boss, make yourselves at home.”
Kuzuru had just laid down for sleep, finally being able to catch some much needed Zs when three hards raps smacked against his door. He groaned and shuffled out of bed with an urgency usually reserved for geriatric patients. With half-opened eyes and a scowl he opened the door. Charlie nodded towards the common area and said, “your friends are here.”
“What?”
“The ones from the Dataverse,” Charles said and turned around, “there I told ya, I’m going back to the telly.”
Kuzuru sighed. Who knew running a mercenary guild would be so bothersome? He shuddered and stepped out into the hallway. He had shed his regular clothes in favor of red silk pajamas. He had no interest in changing for the newcomers, and he debated on whether or not to greet them at all. After a short deliberation he decided it was best to come and socialize with the newcomers. He stepped into the common area and said, “welcome aboard! As you can see you’ve caught me at a bad time, but I’ll take a minute or two to introduce myself. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the boss here and I go by Kuzuru, really I’m a nice guy.” Mallory blew a raspberry, but the demon ignored him, “feel free to take an empty room, decorate it as you like I don’t really care. I’m heading back to bed, we’ll reconvene in the morning. Ciao!” With faked enthusiasm he smiled, turned on his heels, and left the group to their own devices.