[Izzy Montoya] There are a number of hole in the wall places in the Green. If you look long enough, you can find almost anything, really – including a shooting range – where they don’t ask questions and they let you fire as many times as you want, as long as you can prove that you are allowed to carry your weapon. Her badge does that nicely.
She’s been here for a couple hours already, burning through a good deal of ammo in the process. Her aim is a constant thing, methodical and precise, her stance one of long practice and comfort. She draws, she fires, she destroys target after target. She pauses a time or two when approached, and gives pointers willingly enough to those who wish to learn. Her way of teaching? Shut up and do it my way, or do it your way and fail. It’s surprisingly effective.
She’s finished, now, though. She’s reloaded her gun with her preferred ammo, tucked the extras she’d bought back into the bag, and replaced her gun into her holster at the small of her back. Once she dons her jacket again, and pulled the gloves over her slender fingers, she waves to the kid behind the counter. “Thanks, Rocko. See ya next week.” She steps outside, and pretends that she doesn’t notice his pulling her targets out of the garbage and studying them, or hear his whistle under his breath. She couldn’t give two shits if he was impressed or not. Her precision could mean the difference between life or death, and she intends to make sure the former wins a lot more before she succumbs to the later.
She steps outside, the bag in hand, and pauses as she studies the street, and contemplates with way she’ll head – north and home, or to some dive bar on the corner. Choices, choices.
[Curata] Choices were the decisions that people make every time they are pressed with an opposition. It is the littlest thing that alters the course of one’s destiny. Taking the path well-traveled meant going home for the night, taking a hot shower and sitting down to a beer and your favorite television show before going to bed and waking up to continue the mundane routine you have made for yourself. Taking the pass less traveled, changed the course of destiny. It meant having the gumption to take a risk, to go down the other end of the street and to not go home, to stay out late and well… Izzy stood on the sidewalk, debating her choices. North, home, or that little dive bar up the street on the corner. It has watered down beer that tasted like cat piss and inflated prices, the little nuts in the bowl they offered were even stale.
It was a tough decision to make.
If Izzy went to the bar, she might be in for a bit of surprise.
Down the south bend of the corner, a side street is temporarily blocked off. Noise filters behind the high fenced in wall of an abandoned lot, beyond it loomed an old warehouse that had shut down during last year’s recession. In its hay day, it had served as a junk yard and auto body shop, now it was an endless graveyard of scrap metal and heaps upon heaps of garbage. A light shines briefly through one of the six foot tall colored window pane on the first floor of the two-story building…
[Izzy Montoya] .
to Izzy Montoya
[Izzy Montoya] It doesn’t take her long to make her decision. After all, all that she has at home is a fridge full of beer and takeout that seem to be less edible and more science project as the days pass by. Her footsteps turn south. There’s a bottle of whiskey with her name on it, she figures, with some cat piss beer and inflated prices to boot.
As she passes the abandoned building, there’s a flash of light that gets her attention. Her brow furrows, slightly, as she pauses, and takes in the surroundings. Her eyes are dark, and she slings strap of her gym bag over her shoulder, diagonally, so that the bag hangs across her back. She glances around once more, and then searches for an opening, so that she can investigate further.
Quite possibly a very stupid idea, Izzy. Very stupid indeed.
[That doesn’t stop her, at all…]
(perc+alert! What is it you think you see, Detective Montoya?)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Izzy Montoya] .
to Izzy Montoya
[Izzy Montoya] .
to Izzy Montoya
[Curata] The stalwart detective has found something of interest. A second and third flicker accompanies the flash of light as she begins to prowl the perimeter of the 12-foot fencing that blocks the lot. It takes a good five minutes of activity searching to find an opening. A 3-foot hole busted through the wooden portion of the fence and bits of chain link fencing that makes up the second layer is cut aside. Looks as if it has been well used by whoever seems to come here.
More noise filters from the warehouse, perhaps coming from inside. It’s like a faint roar of sort, echoing off metal and glass walls before fading out into the chilly night air. It takes a bit of twisting and contorting to squeeze her way through the double barrier of fencing and she is home free in the junk yard.
A flood of lights swims over the exterior of the yard, the sound of cars pulling in somewhere, the bleep of a horn and people yelling at each other. It sounded like greetings and hellos in thick accents and heavy use of slang. The voice carry through the yard for a three minutes before they are drown out by another loud roar that echoes out from the clang of rising metal as a 15 foot bay door opens and the cars begin to drive inside.
[Izzy Montoya] She finds the way inside, and works her way through it, and then pauses, sliding her bag forward to unzip it quietly, and dig out her extra clip – full, and slide it into the pocket of her jacket. She slides the bag around the back again, as she listens. Hellos and yelling, and a loud roar as the doors open and the car drives inside. She stands, and keeping to the shadows as she trots to the side of the building, moving closer, hoping for a look inside.
She pauses near the window where she first saw the flash, and peers cautiously over the edge…
(and again – whaaat do you seeeee…)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] (LOOK HARDER WENCH!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Curata] The windows seem to be covered in a thick film of dirt, oil and paint from over the years that warehouse was in production. Now, it makes it nearly impossible to see decently. Not very good for peeking, she can catch a glimpse through the open bay door. The gleam of red tail lights flash like the eyes of a beast as cars are parked inside. There seem to be several, all of them different makes and models, most of them seem to be rather expensive by the detailing in the paint jobs.
The bay door begins to slowly shut on its own, rattling in its hinges as she sees a group of men getting out of their cars and greeting each other. Another man, short, scrawny, forearms covered in flame tattoos with skulls on the back of each hand, welcomes the group of men.
Pimps, thugs, mafia, dealers… oh my.
[Izzy Montoya] She’s done a lot of stupid things in her Career. This is possibly one of them. She makes sure her badge and phone are in one pocket, and the strap that holds her gun in the holster is unsnapped as she slips free from the strap of her gym bag, and sets it under a bush. She wraps her fingers around the butt of her weapon, and pulls it free of the holster, holding it at her thigh.
She peers around the open bay door, that’s slowly shutting on it’s on, and while the men are greeting each other, and occupied with that, she slips underneath the door and to the side, crouching behind some hunk of metal or another – hopefully without detection – and listening.
[Curata] The bay door just barely catches on Montoya’s backside as it slams down shut behind her. She manages to make it through unscathed and finds a stack of rusted oil drums to crouch behind and stay out of sight. She doesn’t have a very good advantage point from where she kneels, but the voices carry rather loudly as they echo through the vast steel cavern of the warehouse.
”Gentlemen, I bid you well.” Calls the voice of the scrawny man with the tattoos, now inside, Izzy can see likely peg him being no taller than five foot six with slicked back blond hair and a strong weasel-like features. ”We’ve been expecting you, down through that stairwell are refreshments and lovely ladies to provide you company for tonight’s entertainment. There are bookies for you to take bests on. We hope you enjoy the show and remember our house rules…”
There is a bit talking amongst the group, quite a few seem to be first timers, others stand quietly together awaiting for the blond man to finish speaking.
” 1st RULE: You do not talk about Dog Fight.
2nd RULE: You DO NOT talk about DOG FIGHT.
3rd RULE: If someone says “stop” or a dog goes limp the fight is over.
4th RULE: Only two dogs to a fight.
5th RULE: One fight at a time.
6th RULE: No shirts, no shoes.
7th RULE: Fights will go on as long as one dog lives.
8th RULE: If this is your first night at DOG FIGHT, you HAVE to fight.”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow and shakes her head. Someone’s watched fight club to many times. She scrubs her face, with her hand, gently, and then moves slightly to get a better view of the scrawny man with the tattoos.
She studies him, intently, doing her best to see what he’s really up too – any clue – if this is fights between men, it’s not….exactly… illegal, but for the gambling. If it’s really dogs, thats another thing entirely.
One thing is certain – she’s completely outnumbered in either case. But she doesn’t call for backup just yet.
[perc+empathy – hey Shortie, what you reaaaaaally doing here?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Curata] Her perceptions are on par tonight. She can see what the blond man’s intentions are. After he is done giving his little speech, a serious tone in his voice, which seems to garner a chuckle or two from the first timers, one of them whispering to the other.
“Is this cat for real, man?”
A shake of a head and the blond guy sighs, he waves a hand in the air, motioning for the group to head down a flight of concrete stairs that lead to the basement levels of the warehouse. From her advantage point, glancing around the warehouse, she can see it still held many functions of a working garage. If her estimation was correct, they’d be going down into the sub-levels were a lot of the oil changes and other body work was done.
The Blond man is the last to file inside after the group, the door shutting behind him with a loud thump. She can hear the distant sound of barking filtering out of the open door as the participants were ushered inside.
[Izzy Montoya] She watches as the door closes behind them, heading down to the level below. She remains mostly hidden as she digs her phone out of her pocket. The barking of the dogs is what decides her – she thumbs 911, as her training dictates.
Though she knows the response time in this area of town is shit.
As she waits for the answer, she stands, remaining crouched down, and makes her way around to the door – checking for anyone else who might be hiding in the shadows. Then she takes position where she has a good shot at anyone coming out that door.
When it’s answered, her voice is hushed. “This is Detective Izzy Montoya, badge number 2853. I’m at [address here]. I’m inside, and directly under my feet, there’s illegal gambling and the sound of dog fights going on. I’m way outnumbered, but if you fuckers want a piece of it, you better haul your ass.”
Her reputation precedes her. Maybe they’ll listen. She thumbs the safety on her pistol off, makes sure she’s in a good position, and takes aim on the door.
She makes one more call. And when he answers? “S”Izzy. Called official backup but I’m way out numbered. Wanna have some fun? I’m at [addy] with a buncha illegal shit going on under my feet. If your close, come join the party.”
And then the phone is clicked off, and shoved into her pocket again.
[Curata] Izzy makes a few phone calls. She doesn’t get an immediate response from the boys at the precinct. There is no answer from the Fianna’s phone, just a voicemail. Curiosity gets the better of Montoya as she takes cautious steps down the stairs to the door.
It was large, painted green and looked like it was made of industrial steel. She is forced to holster the gun, using both hands to pry it open as it takes all of her strength to even yank it back. Luckily, whoever ran this operation didn’t seem to keep very many guards around. There are no signs of any lackys posted on the other side of the door.
When she finally manages to slip through, Montoya finds herself in a shallow hallway; low light fixtures hang about a foot above her head. The hallway was three wide in widths and continued down a straight path. Here the sounds of dogs barking grew louder.
[Curata] Three feet in widths
[Izzy Montoya] It takes both hands to open the door, but as soon as she can slip through, she’s taking her gun in hand again. She makes sure the safety is off again, and slowly makes her way down the hallway, stealthy and quietly. She notes the placement of light switches if there are any, doors in the hallway, testing any that she comes too as silently as she can, even as she moves toward the other end of the hallway.
[perc+alert – DONT SNEAK UP ON ME!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Izzy Montoya] (Oh please oh please oh please…)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Curata] […]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Curata] Sneak.Sneak.Sneak…
We’re sneaking, we’re creeping, we’er edging our way down the hallway…
There are no doors, it is an endless tunnel lit by dim fixtures. It seems to wind its way in a downward slope for a good several feet. The sound of barking dogs grows louder and louder the further she goes.
Izzy is confident that she hasn’t been seen. The corridor splits at a juncture, a T section that goes left and right. She sees a little alcove ahead of her. Three vending machines still work, buzzing with electricity and blinking neon lights.
She takes point in the alcove, tucking her back up against the wall as she peers down one end of the hallway. She doesn’t see the large bullish bald man dressed in black leather and denim that quietly comes up behind her. A big meaty hand clasping down roughly on a slim shoulder, “ ‘ey, whot th’ ‘ell yew doin’ ‘ere, pretty?”
[Izzy Montoya] She closes her eyes briefly Shit. Stupid Izzy. but it’s very brief and she snaps them open again as she keeps her gun down at her side, keeping it hidden against her leg as she lifts her free hand, the one connected to her arm and shoulder that’s under his hand, and scrubs her face, hard, and even sniffs, as if she’s crying, her voice little and soft and weak…
“…my boyfriend… he went in there and… he’s cheating on me, isn’t he? I jus’ know he is, I jus’ needed t’see for myself…”
[Curata] “A mon’s daft enough ta cheat on a pretty lil’ thing like yew? Noways.” He clucks his tongue, shaking his head, he looks like he might be buying her story for now. The bullish man drops his hand away from her shoulder, taps her arm and nods his head towards the corridor behind her. “C’mon, gal, ol’ Roland will go find yew bloke and tell ‘im a thing or three.”
He offers her a wide toothy grin, his face growing red and pudgy and he turns around and starts to head off, waiting for her to follow him.
[Izzy Montoya] She looks up at him through her lashes, and offers a shaky smile to Roland… “i..i.. …thank you…”
And when his back turns, she tucks her gun away quickly and straightens her jacket over it, and follows him. Still cautious, but now – going with the flow, winging it, as it were. If he looks back, she bites her lower lip, gently, suddenly the jilted girlfriend, trying to be brave.
While also trying to look everywhere at once.
[Curata] Izzy begins to follow Roland, she has to rack her brain to place his accent, could likely be from the UK, possibly Irish. He was rather large and tall, standing a good six inches over six feet and was rather large in the gut. He had a few piercings going on in his ears and nose. He was rather pale and by the light orangish tint of peach fuzz on his scalp, she thinks he may have been a red head at one time. He takes her down the end of the corridor, it opens up into a wide room that is about the width of the warehouse’s main floor. He leads her across this to its center and then begins to descend down a metal scaffolding of stairs that crisscross for several feet, going further down into a large gutted out section of concrete.
It seems there was more to the basement level that she had first realized.
Roland doesn’t speak to her, he greets a few passerbys as they go along. Izzy will see in the scaffolds various men dressed like Roland, holding automatic assault rifles, bald and heavily pierced like him in denim and black leather. They seem to pace around and take guard. She sees ahead of her, two rows of box like bleachers that would see at a football game surrounding large pit that had been chiseled out of the cement.
Instinct tells her this must have been going on for awhile, nothing looked freshly builted with this underground Coliseum. She has to put a hand to her nose when they walk over a series of large metal cages, the stench of dog feces and rotting meat wafting up to greet her nose. Dogs bark viciously, salivating and spewing up as they snap and lunge at the ceiling.
[Izzy Montoya] Oh Izzy. Several men with guns, she marks their position as she passes, not that she’d be able to do much until her backup arrives – and if dear ole Roland decides to search her, then she’s done for as it is. Denim and leather is the uniform it seems, and she notes every details she can – provided she lives long enough to write up the damn report.
Stupid Stupid Izzy.
She covers her nose, coughing lightly when the smell hits her, scooting across to the edge as if frightened as they lunge, using the momentum to put her close to Roland’s back, her left hand clutching at his leather with a little frightened squeak for authenticities sake. He’s her protector, big Roland is – at least she aims to make him think so, for now. She keeps her right hand and arm free, ready to slip up to her gun at a moment’s notice…
even though it’d be a death wish, at best.
18 rounds. Another 17 round clip. She might get a few of them before they get her, if she can get a good enough vantage point, and if backup gets here anytime soon.
[Curata] ” ‘ey, Rol, ye fookin’ ijit, whot th’ bloody ‘ell she doin’ ‘ere. Ye know th’ boss don’t loike no strangers. Let alone a woman…” The voice comes from underneath them, in one of the cages they stand over. Roland seems to grin when Izzy pressed against him, swinging back a thick arm to draw it around her shoulders and pull her up against him. He escorts her down a set of stairs that empties into a narrow walkway around the main pit of the arena. He leads her back to the cages and to the man that had addressed him.
“I was lookin’ fer th’ gal’s mon, seems ‘e ditched ‘er ‘ere at the rings. She familiar, Sean?” Roland asks the man in the empty cage. Sean – where has Izzy heard the name before – likely where has she placed his face at. Sean took one look at Izzy and swore lightly under his breath. He comes out of the cage, reaching out to grab Izzy by the hand and pull her away from Roland.
“Ah’m so sorry, love, I didn’t think ye’d care for such places…” Sean eyes Roland a moment as the fat man stares at him. “Wha’? She’s wi’ me.”
Roland snorts, shaking his head. “Ye right,”
[Izzy Montoya] Sean…
Oh bloody hell. The one who busted a gut with Curata – what the hell was he doing here? She glances up at Roland, and then back, making a split second decision, as she recognizes him immediately.
She gives him barely a moment, just long enough for her to lift a brow at him to let him know what’s coming, she flows toward him as he pulls and smacks his face – hard, hissing at him – just loud enough to be heard, but not to carry much farther than Roland.
“Where is she! I know ya cheating on me ya fuckin’ bastard! Where is she? Ya promised ya wouldn’t do it again… ya promised!”
And she buries her face against his neck with a mock sob, her left arm slung around him, pulling herself in tight, angling herself so that Rolland can’t see the bulge of her gun as she does so.
[Curata] Roland roars with laughter as Izzy attacks Sean. He flinches and ducks, bringing up an arm to try and deflect the blow to the face, but she manages to nail him pretty good. There was a red imprint of Izzy’s hand on Sean’s cheek. He swears loudly, shoving a hand out at Roland as he wrapped an arm around Izzy and draws her away.
“Fook off, Roland, jus’ fook off. Okay?”
Roland continues to laugh, shaking his head as he shrugs and turns to walk away, someone else catches Roland’s attention and he is gone, leaving Sean and Izzy to themselves for a moment as he pulls her into the cage.
“Fer th’ sweet love o Stag, whot th’ fook ye doin’ ‘ere, woman.” He hisses out in a harsh tone, shoving Izzy away from him. “Mac’s goin’ ta flay me alive if’n he sees ye ‘ere.”
[Izzy Montoya] Rolland makes his escape, and she is pulled into the cage and shoved away, and she pushes her hair back and holds it a moment as he hisses at her. “What the fuck am I doing here? I’m a fuckin’ cop, I see somethin’ going down and I check it out, the fuck are YOU doing here?” it’s rattled off almost as fast as he talk, and then she arches a brow.
“Is here here too? The hell is going on?”
A beat, and then “Fuck, man. I called backup – they are takin’ their sweet time, though.. ya gotta get the hell outa here…”
[Curata] “Ah nay!” Sean nearly yells over the loud sounds of yelling and barking dogs. There was cheering from the box seats as a fight began to start up. Sean starts to bob up and down, cupping his hands over the back of his head, gripping fistfuls of red hair as he moves around spastically. He pulls his hands away, looking at Izzy in disbelief.
“Fookin’ bitch, whot th’ ‘ell didja go do that fer?” He shakes his head, starting to pace away from her. “Aye, Mac’s ‘ere… it’s a’fookin’ dog fightin’ contest, th’ bloody ‘ell ye think he’d be doin’ ‘ere? Signing up fer a bloody dog show?”
[Izzy Montoya] “How the fuck’d I know what he’s fuckin doing down here…?”
She blinks, and then shakes her head, and digs her phone out, and checks for reception, curses under her breath and shoves her phone back in her pocket. “I can try an’ call em off – but not from in here. They takin their slow ass time about gettin here as it is. Hell, for all I know they know already an’ don’t give a shit at this point.”
She pauses, and then.. “What IS he doin’ down here?”
Clearly, her curiosity is her downfall – else she wouldn’t be here right now.
[Curata] “S’a dog fightin’,” Sean replies, hooking his hands into his front pockets. His head tilts up, glancing up through the bars of the empty cage and a guard starts to walk by. He snorts softly, lowering his voice as he watches Izzy.
“We git a few cops down ‘ere, make some good money off ’em,” he flashes her a cheeky grin, “Wha’ ye think Mac’s doin’. ‘e’s fightin’ o’course.” Sean rolls up narrow shoulders, ” ‘e’s doin’ me a favor and we found some activity goin’ on down ‘ere’s so we’s been passin’ ‘im off as a big ugly mutt.”
[Izzy Montoya] She glances up as a guard starts to walk by, and takes a step closer to Sean, and just stares at him. “Ya fuckin kiddin, right?” She glances toward the arena and drags her hand through her hair, before shaking her head. “Jesus fucked up Christ.”
Well. If the cops are part of it – chances are backup won’t show at all – or will show, and pass it off as having stopped already, or something like that. She’s disgusted by the thought of it, and it’s writ clear on her face.
[Curata] Sean steps closer to her, reaching out to grab Izzy by the shoulder as he spins her to face him. “Don’t gimme that look, s’not whot ye thinking. Th’ dogs are sick, possibly tainted or possessed. Since we’s come ‘ere we’ve noticed a few fomoric behaviors about them. Mac’s managed ta put a few down.”
The crowd was roaring again as the fight seems to have finished. Sean looks away, pulls his hand back from her shoulder and starts to leave the cage. He makes his way towards the edge of the arena, grasping a hold of the railing and glances over it to watch the fight.
[Izzy Montoya] She narrows her gaze at him, a moment as he spins her to look at him. She’s not one that does touch well, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt. And then she nods slightly. “Ya coulda fuckin’ said that in the first place, Sean. Fuckin’ hell.”
She glances at the cages, and the guards, mentally placing them again. “he walks away, and she studies him, and drags her hand through her hair again and mutters. “Jesus, Mary mother of fuck.”
She moves up next to him, pressing against his side -i n case Roland looks to see what they’re doin. “He plannin on takin’ em one by one this way? Why not get a crew, clean’em out an shut’em down?”
It looks like she’s watching him, or the fight, but she’s really watching everything she can, counting gunmen, weapons, dogs…
[Curata] Sean leans in close to Izzy, shaking his head as he bows it forward close to her ear. He leans on the railing, pointing out to a pair of dogs that are fight. One looks like a rottweiler and its opponent a cross between a pitbull and a great dane. They were huge, bulky beasts their muscular structures bigger than was normal for dogs of their caliber, with thick stocky bodies and block-shaped heads. They torn after each other savagely, like their only existence was to kill.
“S’not easy loike that,” Sean starts to murmur, “Infiltrating. This is the probationary rounds, we ain’t sure who’s infesting the animals. We bring a team in ‘ere and we’ll never find out who’s behind it.”
[Izzy Montoya] She tips her head so that she can hear him, eyes following his finger, watching the dogs fight, quickly recognizing they’re too big, and savage. She does her best to keep that look of distaste from her face. She swallows, hard and nods, slightly at what she hears.
Then she turns to look at him, intently, before she nods and turns her gaze back toward the fight in progress. “What can I do?”
[Curata] “Git ye th’ ‘ell outta ‘ere for now.” Sean quibs, he flashes her a cheeky grin. “They sees ye shield, ye’ll be dog food, lass.”
Sean pushes away from the railing, that is when they hear a loud shrilling yelp coming from one of the fighting dogs. The pitbull mix goes down under the Rotweiller’s ferocious bite. The winning dog tasting the loser’s blood, suddenly seems to go into a frenzy, savagely tearing and ripping the pitbull mix alive until it was nothing more than a sticky mass of fur and bones, its stomach torn open as its innards gush outward.
Several of the first time bystanders have to look away and try not to throw up in their expensive hats. The winning dog stands over its victim, head lifting up as it opens its mouth and starts to howl. Izzy will see the dog’s lower jaw begin to split apart, fanning out its lower jaws like the mandibles on an insect. It lowers its head and starts to feast on the carnage beneath it.
Sean grabs her arm, tucking on it. “We’re out o ‘ere now.”
[Izzy Montoya] She nods, slightly..
and then her gaze is pulled back to the ring as the howl sounds, and her body visibly tenses, spin straightening as she has to clench her hand, hard to not reach for her gun and take care of it right now.
As impulsive as she is – she’s not completely stupid. Sean tugs on her arm, and she doesn’t resist, ripping her gaze from the carnage in the ring, and sweeping the arena carefully and quickly as she falls into step with Sean.
Getting out seems to be a damn fine idea…
[perc+alert – Who’s awatchin anything but the carnage… aka – us?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Curata] [….]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Curata] Izzy and Sean begin to make their way around the outer edge of the arena, trying to work their way up out of the pits to gain access to the path that runs across the holding pens. Montoya begins to scan the area, taking note that Roland has been watching them for some time now. He begins to take out a walkie and starts speaking into it. His free hand waving in their direction as they start to cross over the cages and make their way to the scaffolding, which seems to be the only way back out.
The men with the assault rifles start to peer through the scopes, roaming their guns over the crowd as they try to pinpoint Izzy and Sean. This seems to catch the attention of the bystanders, which results in some of the more gun-toting patrons to start standing up and pulling out their weapons. They begin to yell at Roland, demanding to know what the hell was going on.
Izzy will see a few of seasoned patrons start to sneak out like she and Sean were. From the holding pens, an uproar rises with two men yelling back and forth to each other. There is a human bellow of pain and then a dog from the holding pen attacks the savage rendering of flesh and bone as one of the men; someone screams about the locks on the cages being opened and the dogs start to escape… and attack random people.
[Izzy Montoya] “Roland’s narkin – they’re watchin us, man… ”
Guns are appearing from everywhere, and she’s trying to mark them all at once as her hand slips to the small of her back under her jacket and free her own, holding it there as she thumbs the safety off once more.
Then the dogs start to escape and attack, and she winces, but keeps moving – they’re still outnumbered, though she’s itching to shoot something at this point.
…easy Izzy – part of knowing the gun is knowing when not to shoot it…
“Movemovemovemove…”
[Curata] At this particular moment, all hell seems to break loose. Several events begin to happen at once. People are freaking out, there is automatic gunfire raining down from the scaffolding stairs that seem to provide the only way out and the dogs are running rampant and attacking anything that moves.
A shootout sparks between the guards and some of the gun-toting patrons as they begin to take shots at each other. Other guards are trying to pick off the dozen or so dogs that are clawing and climbing their way into the crowds and killing people.
Two of the dogs have managed to catch wind of Sean and Izzy as they make it to the first steps of the scaffolding stairs that lead up. Gunfire rains down on them, sending sparks off the steel frames as they are nearly hit. Izzy can feel a bullet brush past her ear and another graze against her thigh. Sean swears loudly getting caught up in the crossfire as he presses himself against the wall, trying to avoid bullets.
[Izzy Montoya] “Jesus fucking Christ!”
Sean pushes against the wall, and she hears the oh so familiar whiz of bullets too close for comfort. She’ll have a burn mark along her thigh later, but it’s better than a direct hit. She gets herself against the wall, and in front of Sean as she turns and sees the dogs that are coming for them. She pulls her gun around, and takes a slow breath, watching the dogs, rather than everyone else.
“Keep moving…”
She pushes back against Sean, urging him up another step or two as she takes aim, a breath, and when the dogs coming for them are in range…
Fires.
[Izzy Montoya] (Officially: split action – closest dog in range
1a: 3rb
1b: single fire.)
1a: three round burst: dex 4 + firearms 4 + 3 = 11 – 2 (split) = 9, diff 7 (rerolls)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
[Izzy Montoya] 1a: damage: damage 4 + (suxx-1) diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Curata] 1 dog soak
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] COME ON KAHSEENO!
1b: regular shot: dex 4 + firearms 4 = 8 – 3 (split) = 5, diff 6 (rerolls)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Curata] [Falling body on +2 Dog]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Curata] body damage
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Curata] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Curata] intimidation
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Curata] Izzy open fires on the first of the two dogs that come after her and Sean, the other kin tries to make a desperate attempt to climb the scaffolding, but the metal frame work suddenly shakes and sways a bit as a tremor erupts through top half. Sean pulls back, knocking into Izzy’s elbow as she sweeps a spray of bullets at the first dog.
Sparks strike up as bullets hit metal and the first dog takes a hit and fumbles, sliding on the grated flooring. Screams echo over the pair of kin as the broken body of one of the guard dive bombs the second dog and bowls it over, causing it to trip. More gunfire rains down on Izzy and Sean, but this time the furry back of a rather large bipedal monster is skydiving down from the top level, landing in a crouch as its massive weight collides with the metal grated flooring and leaves a big impression, shields most of it.
Ears folding back along the Garou’s head as the dogs pull themselves up and start to run forward again at trio. The Fianna erects himself up, snapping jaws as he takes a step forward and roars at the two dogs. They skid to halt, tails suddenly tucking under their hind legs and yelp, falling back over themselves to run away.
[Curata] Salmon’s Leap
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Izzy Montoya] “Jesus Sean!” She growls as he jostles her elbow, but she gets at least one of them. Something else causes the second to stumble and she’s shoving back against him again And then a very LARGE Garou is in front of them, and she doesn’t waste any time, yelling at Sean again. “Come on, MOVE or I’ll shoot you this fuckin’ time!”
Even as she does so, she’s scanning for the closest gunman aiming for them, and now for Curata who’s shielding them. With him in front of her, she takes the time to find the gunmen that are shooting at them – and fires.
(second verse same as the first, come on Kahseeno, let her show off a little, please?
– gunman in range, clear shot – 1a 3rb, 1b single shot)
[Izzy Montoya] Come on Kahseeno!!!
1a: three round burst: dex 4 + firearms 4 + 3 = 11 – 2 (split) = 9, diff 7 (rerolls)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Izzy Montoya] 1a: damage: damage 4 + 2 diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] GIMME A BREAK.
1b: regular shot: dex 4 + firearms 4 = 8 – 3 (split) = 5, diff 6 (rerolls)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] 1b: damage: damage 4 + diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Curata] Curata reaches for the panicking Sean that is ducking and cowering under the Ahroun. Izzy peeks out around him as she fires her gun up at the shooter that has a lock on them. A burst of bullets and she seems to hit the target, but the bullets have little effect, not managing to penetrate the guard’s armor.
The Fianna roars out, sending a scream rising up through the frantic sea of people that attempt to escape, the Delirium taking effect as he’s reaching for Sean, throwing him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curata reaches for Izzy, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her forward as he lowers himself to the ground, pushing her towards his back.
[Izzy Montoya] She cusses again, and takes aim once more – only to have her arm grabbed as she is tugged forward, and Curata pushes her toward his back as he lowers down. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me…”
He will NEVER let her live this one down. Ever. But, well, Izzy? She’s not stupid. She slides her left arm between Sean and the Ahrouns neck, wrapping her arm around tight enough to hold on, yet not choke.
And keeps her right hand – and her gun – free. Not that it seems to matter tonight, but dammit she’s not gonna be some defenseless little babe in the middle of this chaos. She wraps her legs around him, thighs tightening against him as much as possible, even as she fires again at a the gunman again.
(fuck this 3rb business. And fuck Kahseeno too. He’s a whore! a WHORE. 1a: fire, 1b: fire)
[Curata] Leap of Faith!!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 3) [WP]
[Izzy Montoya] (A WHORE. YOU HEAR ME?)
1a Dex + Firearms = 8-2 diff 6 + rerolls
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Izzy Montoya] (THATS RIGHT, BITCH!)
1a: damage: damage 4 + 3 diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Curata] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] (MUTTERS)
1b: Dex + Firearms = 8-3 =5 diff 6 + rerolls
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Izzy Montoya] damage: damage 4 + 4 diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Curata]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Curata] Izzy is cussing up a storm as she’s pulled to Curata’s back. She climbs on, managing to position herself into a secure enough position. Once she’s on, she feel the Ahroun raise up to his full height, glancing around and then up. He starts to back up to give himself running space, she might begin to realize what he is about to do…
Gunfire is exchange, another rain of bullets as Izzy fires back on the shooter that had them targeted and manages to take the asshole out with shot. It is right about that point that Curata starts to take off in a run for the scaffolding.
Powerful muscles flex and coil up like a spring under the thick reddish-brown fur of the Fianna. He gathers himself up and takes the leap of faith… which he clears. There is a brief second that time nearly slows down as they practically fly straight up into the air, over several of the gunmen still shooting and make it to the top level without a problem; Curata landing gracefully.
During the leap, Sean just passes the fuck out unable to handle any more excitement and with the kinfolk still on his back, the Fianna drops to all fours and gallops down the hallway, leaving the fight behind them as he takes the kinfolk out. He bulldozes through the heavy green door, blowing it off its hinges as he rammed into it and slides to a halt on the concrete.
[Izzy Montoya] He gathers himself to jump, and she just catches her breath and closes her eyes briefly as suddenly they’re airborne. The cursing sounds something like a prayer for just the briefest of seconds, and then they’re landed and he’s running full tilt toward the door. She tucks her arm back along her thigh, and tucks her head to protect herself as the door is blown off the hinges as they go through.
Curata skids to a stop and she doesn’t let go for a moment, as the world is tilting dangerously for just a second or two. When she’s sure she won’t be sick, she takes a breath and slides off his back, and with a look back toward the hallway, makes for the door, quickly, but carefully too. She spares Sean a look, but doesn’t comment. Some men just aren’t cut out for this kinda thing – which leads her to wonder why he was there to begin with.
Her only comment, after a glance at Curata, is with that same smirk – even as she tosses a look over her shoulder toward the door, just in case someone’s following already. “Guess this is why ya didn’t answer your fuckin’ phone… tell me ya got a car nearby?”
[Curata] Curata doesn’t answer her. There isn’t time as repositions Sean on his back and starts to trot out with the unconscious kinfolk, moving up the hallway quickly and out into the main level of the warehouse. Overhead, several red and blue lights are flashing as a large spotlight beams down through the colored windowpanes. Izzy can make out the sounds of police activity outside the perimeter.
Izzy looks over her shoulder towards the door, and doesn’t see anyone following them. She sees the Fianna pause at the harsh sounds going on around them, laying back his ears. He erects himself up, stepping over to the kin and looks down at her.
Curata brings his head down low to meet her eye to eye. He tucks his head lower, gently bumping her chin with a cold wet nose and then a long rough pink tongue rolls out to lick up the side of her face, getting wolf slime in part of her hair. Amused, he starts to step away with Sean, heading out of the warehouse before the Izzy’s backup starts to rush in.
[Izzy Montoya] Backup has arrived. Finally. She does a quick mental count on the rounds she has left in her gun, and then he’s in front of her again, and staring at her in the eye. She arches a brow slightly, her breath held, and then…
He licks her.
LICKS HER.
“Oh you fuckin’ furbrained motherfucker, I’ma shoot your ass yet.. an’ your close enough it’ll fuckin’ HURT….”
She reaches out as he starts away and slaps him on the haunches, hard. “G’on, get out.”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, and tries to smooth her hair down as she finds a nice oil drum to crouch behind, and take bead on the door. She was there the whole time, just waiting for backup to arrive.
Honest.
[Izzy Montoya] [And thassa wrap! WHOO!]