#beastofbullets

[gotthemetal]

Owes

I'll be gettin' these replies out today.

[gotthemetal]

Shadows move about the courtyard in short sprints from one cover to the other. Only other sound is of crackling radios.  " -kkk- Target spotted?" " No sign of target."   In the wind, rain brushes off the cobblestone to wet the soil between the cracks. Everything settles for a moment in the rise of a shadow above a closed cafe in view of the moon.  "Deadpool's Journal, Italy. Can see Toy Soldiers moving. One almost tripped over loose stone. Held sides for ten seconds while silently laughing. Stopped because I coughed up spleen.  They're amateurs. Can't decide whether to maim or kill. Either way, teach them a lesson -- " "-- -kkk- Sir, we've spotted the target. He's talking to himself on the roof of a cafe inside the square. No civilians, we're engaging."  "Engaging?! What a load o' my twenty-four carat ring!" Peaking up over the private's shoulder was Deadpool's head. Peaking through the other side of the private was a serrated blade. Blood smearing the front of the private's uniform was a signal for this Band of Boneheads to shoot carelessly around the courtyard.  The merc' was everywhere. Appearing and disappearing in a sparkly pink -poof- of smoke. Blood spewed from their necks and limbs wobbled like tossed spaghetti. He was a shadow against a backdrop of red.  "Say, were you finished with all  the bullets in this thing?

POOF "Here!  Have a nice gut wrenching!  Huh... I wonder where that wrench actually came from."  POOF

"Aaaand scene!" He stood amid the severed limbs and corpses. Blood now ran rampant between the cracks of cobblestone. The teleporter around his waist cracked and fizzed, shooting sparks off. 

[redleatherhunter]

Aftermath | Closed RP for beastofbullets

It wasn't an easy trek back to the shop with the unconscious assassin slung over his shoulder. His own energy was dwindling. He needed a hot meal and some rest, but he couldn't just let this guy run off after all.

He sighed and kicked the office doors open before stepping through. He carried Drake over to the sofa before dropping him down on it with a heavy exhale.

"Cerberus," he called out, voice commanding. His eyes picked up on a light blue-green glow in the corner and he walked over to the nunchaku, picking it up to bring back to the couch. "Got a job for you. I need you to hold this guy for me no matter what he does." The weapon glowed a little brighter and got colder to the touch, giving affirmation.

With that accomplished he wrapped two of the chains around his prisoner's wrists and up his arms, tying them behind his back. The last one he twined once around his neck, hoping that would deter any escape attempts, he wasn't sure he wanted to go another full-on round with the guy. He was pretty tough. He also seemed to be healing up well from their last fight.

[themotherofgods]

Aim and Shoot

   They still had a few hours to spend before this twenty four hour window closed on them. She was lying in the bed, restless as the sun's rays came peeking into the windows. Nude form under the sheets looking over at Drake's sleeping body. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she got up, heading into the bathroom.

   Getting some of her morning duties out of the way; brushing her teeth, a quick shower, washing her hair -- she headed into the kitchen wanting him to wake up to a nice hot meal to start his day off right.

   Crepes. It was something she enjoyed making for breakfast. She had some filled with peaches, some with strawberries and a few with bananas, not knowing which he'd have a taste for more. Tea and coffee in the pot, hot to touch and freshly brewed.

   As she readied two plates for them, she kept eyeing his pistols over on the table. Guns weren't something she had a fondness for, nor a dislike of. She was pretty neutral about them personally. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

   Bare feet made it's way over to the table, form still nude and hair lightly damp from the shower. She picked one up, handling it with care; barely touching it as she ran her fingers lightly over the metal. Speaking to herself softly, she laughed a little before setting his gun back down. "Actually heavier than I thought."

{ beastofbullets }

[egcdraconis]

Replies Owed:

I'm currently going through my drafts and notes and collecting all replies that I owe, both on this blog and Transcendingthefade. If I owe you a reply and haven't listed it here, can you tell me please?

thefrostlily: Attempts at friendship

spiritghostimps: Ghosts of the past, Blurred Lines, Mercy Kill ask prompt

exaqua-nereida: Black Market thread

beastofbullets: Coffee shop thread (if you're confused, I am the mun for transcending the fade as well-it's just easier to make one masterpost instead of two separate posts.)

multitude-of-light: Market Days

bxdtrip: First encounter thread(as I stated above, this is the mun for transcendingthefade, in case you're confused.)

[iustuscadens]

Only in My Dreams

"And I'm sorry, what was your reason for visiting us again?"

He hated secretaries, especially female ones. Particularly this one, all straight black hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and piercing eyes that searched for lies and were much too hard for the profession she was in. That in itself was a red flag. 'Muscle' wasn't always big burly guys with guns. It was also the smart, quiet ones. The watchdogs. She was screening him for possible deceit, so she could run to her boss. 

He flashed his most insecure fake smile, and sighed. "I, uh....I'm having these....re-occurring nightmares. PTSD, served for a few years, and I've woken up and scared the bejesus out of my wife a few times. Nothin's working, you know?" 

Her eyes narrow, and she also flashes him a fake, thin-lipped smile. "May I see your military identification card?" 

He'd been expecting this, he hands over a fake, and she may take a bit too long to examine it, but hands it back. "Have a seat. He'll be with you in a moment." 

"M'k. Um-....do you have a bathroom around here?" 

"....down the hall." Her suspicion makes him want to rip her throat out, and Dean makes a mental note of all the ways he'll do so if she becomes a problem or ends up being a monster, provided this lead goes pans out. He nearly stomps down the hall, skipping the bathroom.

'Dream Therapy', a new concept invented by some guy in a glorified lab suit or whatever. He had appeared out of nowhere with a flashy M.D. title, claiming he had invented the technology for 'dream sharing'. Dr. Grippes wasn't too big yet, but his practice had been growing. His videos had this sappy, calming music while some lady laid down in a bed and strapped a weird band to her head. The Doc does the same thing on the other bed, and then the voiceover starts, explaining the process. By dissecting your dreams, the Doc helps people overcome whatever the Hell's gotten ahold of them. Dean doesn't buy it, technology has come a long way in ten years, but not that far. And any guy who'd come up with that wouldn't charge as low as he's charging. 

And then there were the missing persons...

People who had simply....disappeared. A lot at first, then the disappearances petered out. And every single one of 'em, had gone to this dream thing, though that had been hard to figure out. Most didn't tell their loved ones they were trying out a radical new therapy, and the first session was free, and required no insurance, no co-pay, no paper trail. 

A perfect way to experiment, and never have to explain yourself. 

Dean was thinkin' Djinn, maybe African Dream Root gone wrong, something. But nothing natural, that was for sure. 

[laurakinney-howlett]

"I'm not letting you walk, I'm going to carry you." (Starter)

"I don't..." Laura says and tries to stand up, but without success. She stares before her with a look of dread in eyes. "I never needed help..." she whispers.

[invisiblerobber-blog]

Comatose

His room was small, but for the human, it was huge. He told Tecton, his photovoltaicat, to keep off the berth and instead made a little pillow place for her to sleep on on his desk. Mirage situated himself on a chair besides his berth.

Why? Because plopped on his berth was the human-thing that had passed out days ago.

His berth was way too big for the human, but he didn't really want to put the thing on the floor or anything. For the past few days, Mirage had been fretting over the stupid thing that tried to kill him. It made no sense, really, but at this point, Mirage really couldn't have cared less.

"How the frag do you take care of a freaking comatose human...?" Mirage grumbled. What if it was actually dead? Mirage couldn't tell if it was breathing or not. Which scared him a lot, actually.

The thing tried to kill you. Why are you so worried about it?

Shut up, me.

Mirage sighed and lightly touched the human IV drip he managed to nab the other day. Humans needed those things when they were unconscious and unable to eat, right?

His optics were still a horrible mess, but he wasn't bleeding energon anymore. The blurred darkness was terrifying, but he constantly tried to reassure himself with the fact that he wasn't totally blind.