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Black_Out
Semi-Pro Stalker
- Joined
- Jul 9, 2018
This late at night the grand old park was relatively quiet. Some might think that strange, considering that the city surrounding the lonesome park was full of vibrant night life and abundant energy. It was a pleasant place to get away when the sun spread its warm beams down over the vast network of wooded trails that the park was home too. Kids played the day away while parents sat back and watched. Folks young and old walked, jogged, and ran along the winding trails that made it seem like you were a world away from all of the hustle and bustle of Empire City. During the spring and summer months the open lawns were packed with people that came out to enjoy the weekend concerts that the park hosted. It was a happy, inviting, and entertaining place to spend some time, when the sun was out.
Once the sun fell though, the demeanor of the park shifted and grew as forbidding as the dark shadows that washed over the park. The trails lost their luster in the dark, barely offered any light by the distant lamp posts that dotted the borders of the winding woodland paths. Anyone with any sense of civility or personal well being stayed out of Empire Park when the moon was high in the night sky. Once the sun had well beyond set the pavilions and underpasses of the park became nightly refuge for a portion of the city's homeless population. They tended to keep to themselves, cloistered together in small camps here and there where the park offered shelter. The dark paths were frequent business places for transactions of assorted drug trades.
On occasion, larger deals went down. There were just to many avenues to break and split if things went sour. The park was an absolute maze once the night overtook it's tree lined landscape. It was considered such a futile effort that the police typically didn't even bother investing any man power into attempting to patrol the park. So for the most part the criminal elements of the city that used the park as a middle ground to handle their business rarely suffered any sort of intrusions.
That was at least what the small crew of hooligans assumed the case would be when they gathered together near the entrance to a long stone lined tunnel that cut through a tree capped hill in the middle of the seemingly abandoned park. About a half dozen figures kept to the shadows, a small team of runners and one distributor of a variety of addictive narcotics. They were all crouched down around a worn but still quite suitable backpack that the oldest of them seemed to be lording over the contents of. He was a tall lanky dark skinned fella, maybe in his late teens or early twenties and was wearing a rather dark ensemble that was comprised of a baggy hooded sweat shirt, loose fitting jeans, and well worn red running shoes.
The others circled around him were dressed in similar schemes of dark colored attires. While the cast of characters were a mix of different ethnicity's, and varied in age by a few years, they all shared one common thread. Their turf was a nasty sprawling section of poverty ridden projects where violent street gangs warred with one in an effort to carve out their own small kingdoms. It was far safer and in some ways more convenient to meet here under the copse of trees just outside the tunnel and distribute the haul of narcotics then it would be to try to conduct business in the shelter of their homes. So money was passed between the dealers and their supplier as they sat in the relative quiet and darkness beneath the looming branches of the trees. Various street drugs like opium, cocaine, and Euphoria were handed out in plastic bundles from the depths of the backpacks contents.
A heavy blunt wrapped in some chocolate flavored tobacco leaf was being passed around as business was just concluding. The supplier let out a muffled cough after he took a long draw off the smoldering blunt. "Fuck that's some good shit. Call it the Pink Panther, gots it straight outta the center. Best fucking thing that ever happened in this hole." He passed the chronic over towards the next in line as he let smoke roll out of his nostrils. "Anyways, the E is new shit, gots me a bomb ass source whose been brewing up his own." He was the sort that talked with his hands, moving them to punctuate his words. "It ain't the pure motha fuckin shit, bitch ass still workin on it but fuck if it ain't gonna get ya hard and spread some fuckin legs ya dig?"
Abruptly, the dim echoing sound of a little pleasant whistling emerging from the tunnel drew the crews attention. The inconspicuous ditty cut through the silence of the night and alerted the gathering that a stranger was approaching. Soft light fell upon the silhouette of a lone figure that appeared as it strode forth out of the pitch blackness of the nearby tunnel. His was a large figure, set with a square jaw and long tangled dirty blonde hair. Piercing crystal blue eyes peered out from beneath bushy brows as the solitary presence stopped and twitched his nose, sniffing the breeze that wafted past. He kept his hands tucked inside the pockets of a scratched up old tan denim jacket that was open to reveal the deep crimson tee he wore beneath it. Strong well defined legs were covered in blue jeans that were ripped in spots and frayed along the bottom. A polished black belt with a buckle of silver in the shape of a leering skull kept the well worn pants snug around his waist.
Sabretooth curled his lips into a meager smile, letting the thick canines that led to his infamous nickname flicker into view. "Well, well boys. Ain't you all looking like easy pickings." His legs shifted, knees bending ever so slightly while his hands bristled with tufts of wiry hair along the back of them withdrew from the jackets pockets. Rough, coarse, and thick fingers flexed while yellow stained pointed nails elongated menacingly from their tips.
Pistols were drawn out quickly by a few of the small time drug dealers as they turned to face this seemingly brazen threat. "Pick this outta ya teeth bitch." The threat was snorted out by one of the dealers as he took a steady aim towards the broad shouldered target. By the time the trigger was pressed, by the time the bullet flew from the barrel of the gun, Sabretooth had moved. He sprung like a graceful and swift predatory cat off to the side, leaving the bullet to bite into the surface of the packed dirt trail. Dense brambles and thickets swallowed him up as he vanished from sight beyond their cover while a few more shots blindly trailed after him.
Sabretooth grinned deep from the darkness that he quietly moved through as he circled his prey. "Like I said, easy pickings, but don't worry, just give me the name of the guy you got your Euphoria from, and I might let you keep everything else." His voice carried to them, sounding from different spots as he looped around and let them fire off a few more random shots that wordlessly rejected his offer.
Once the sun fell though, the demeanor of the park shifted and grew as forbidding as the dark shadows that washed over the park. The trails lost their luster in the dark, barely offered any light by the distant lamp posts that dotted the borders of the winding woodland paths. Anyone with any sense of civility or personal well being stayed out of Empire Park when the moon was high in the night sky. Once the sun had well beyond set the pavilions and underpasses of the park became nightly refuge for a portion of the city's homeless population. They tended to keep to themselves, cloistered together in small camps here and there where the park offered shelter. The dark paths were frequent business places for transactions of assorted drug trades.
On occasion, larger deals went down. There were just to many avenues to break and split if things went sour. The park was an absolute maze once the night overtook it's tree lined landscape. It was considered such a futile effort that the police typically didn't even bother investing any man power into attempting to patrol the park. So for the most part the criminal elements of the city that used the park as a middle ground to handle their business rarely suffered any sort of intrusions.
That was at least what the small crew of hooligans assumed the case would be when they gathered together near the entrance to a long stone lined tunnel that cut through a tree capped hill in the middle of the seemingly abandoned park. About a half dozen figures kept to the shadows, a small team of runners and one distributor of a variety of addictive narcotics. They were all crouched down around a worn but still quite suitable backpack that the oldest of them seemed to be lording over the contents of. He was a tall lanky dark skinned fella, maybe in his late teens or early twenties and was wearing a rather dark ensemble that was comprised of a baggy hooded sweat shirt, loose fitting jeans, and well worn red running shoes.
The others circled around him were dressed in similar schemes of dark colored attires. While the cast of characters were a mix of different ethnicity's, and varied in age by a few years, they all shared one common thread. Their turf was a nasty sprawling section of poverty ridden projects where violent street gangs warred with one in an effort to carve out their own small kingdoms. It was far safer and in some ways more convenient to meet here under the copse of trees just outside the tunnel and distribute the haul of narcotics then it would be to try to conduct business in the shelter of their homes. So money was passed between the dealers and their supplier as they sat in the relative quiet and darkness beneath the looming branches of the trees. Various street drugs like opium, cocaine, and Euphoria were handed out in plastic bundles from the depths of the backpacks contents.
A heavy blunt wrapped in some chocolate flavored tobacco leaf was being passed around as business was just concluding. The supplier let out a muffled cough after he took a long draw off the smoldering blunt. "Fuck that's some good shit. Call it the Pink Panther, gots it straight outta the center. Best fucking thing that ever happened in this hole." He passed the chronic over towards the next in line as he let smoke roll out of his nostrils. "Anyways, the E is new shit, gots me a bomb ass source whose been brewing up his own." He was the sort that talked with his hands, moving them to punctuate his words. "It ain't the pure motha fuckin shit, bitch ass still workin on it but fuck if it ain't gonna get ya hard and spread some fuckin legs ya dig?"
Abruptly, the dim echoing sound of a little pleasant whistling emerging from the tunnel drew the crews attention. The inconspicuous ditty cut through the silence of the night and alerted the gathering that a stranger was approaching. Soft light fell upon the silhouette of a lone figure that appeared as it strode forth out of the pitch blackness of the nearby tunnel. His was a large figure, set with a square jaw and long tangled dirty blonde hair. Piercing crystal blue eyes peered out from beneath bushy brows as the solitary presence stopped and twitched his nose, sniffing the breeze that wafted past. He kept his hands tucked inside the pockets of a scratched up old tan denim jacket that was open to reveal the deep crimson tee he wore beneath it. Strong well defined legs were covered in blue jeans that were ripped in spots and frayed along the bottom. A polished black belt with a buckle of silver in the shape of a leering skull kept the well worn pants snug around his waist.
Sabretooth curled his lips into a meager smile, letting the thick canines that led to his infamous nickname flicker into view. "Well, well boys. Ain't you all looking like easy pickings." His legs shifted, knees bending ever so slightly while his hands bristled with tufts of wiry hair along the back of them withdrew from the jackets pockets. Rough, coarse, and thick fingers flexed while yellow stained pointed nails elongated menacingly from their tips.
Pistols were drawn out quickly by a few of the small time drug dealers as they turned to face this seemingly brazen threat. "Pick this outta ya teeth bitch." The threat was snorted out by one of the dealers as he took a steady aim towards the broad shouldered target. By the time the trigger was pressed, by the time the bullet flew from the barrel of the gun, Sabretooth had moved. He sprung like a graceful and swift predatory cat off to the side, leaving the bullet to bite into the surface of the packed dirt trail. Dense brambles and thickets swallowed him up as he vanished from sight beyond their cover while a few more shots blindly trailed after him.
Sabretooth grinned deep from the darkness that he quietly moved through as he circled his prey. "Like I said, easy pickings, but don't worry, just give me the name of the guy you got your Euphoria from, and I might let you keep everything else." His voice carried to them, sounding from different spots as he looped around and let them fire off a few more random shots that wordlessly rejected his offer.
