Ryees
Imperishable Fractal
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2014
- Location
- Central US
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A drifter. A blade. A desire.█ Amoret , D e v e r e u x
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"Love will have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood."
"Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red."
Once upon a time, there was a girl and the girl had a shadow
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Name: amoret devereux
Nicknames: mori / ami
Age: 19
Gender: female
Physical;Hair: pink
Eyes: blue/lilac
Height: 5'0
Body: petite
Assets;Weapon:two butterfly knives, rainbow finish 9"
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Her past was not something she considered.
It wasn't the story of a happy family. It didn't matter to her either. What if it was why she was the way she was?
All that mattered was the hunt and more importantly the kill.
Like a flower set free on the breeze, Amoret drifts from city to city killing as she wants.
What draws her? What makes her single out someone to be the fascination?
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- Content 2
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A soldier. A rifle. A plan.
█ Alphonse R i v t h a l i a
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"What's a job without a Job?"
"Take the good; leave the bad; remember the ugly."
Anyone in pursuit of art is responding to a desire to make visible that which is not, to offer the unknown self to others.
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N a m e: Alphonse Rivthalia
Nicknames: Al, Mimic, Mim
A g e: 28
G e n d e r: Male
Physical;H a i r: White, gray
E y e s: Blue, cold
H e i g h t: Tall, 6'2"
B o d y: Lithe, athletic
Assets;Weapons:Varies by assignment; particularly adept with precision weapons and sharp melee weapons.
Other: Much of what he carries with him is provided by HR.
Terribly fond of surveillance equipment, particularly the easily hidden. -
Mom was an accountant. Dad worked for the "government," unaffiliated, of course. Following dad into his line of work was not what Al had in mind, but life swept him along in the waves like it did everyone.
"Hazardous Response" was the front-name for a division that made people and things disappear. One of those names that technically didn't lie about what they did, but left the definition of "hazard" and "response" up to interpretation.
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"Kirin One in position. Checking DOPE, awaiting spotter feed."
"Kirin Two in position. Awaiting DOPE and spotter."
"Kirin Three moving into position, T-minus... fuckin' one more flight of stairs, ah shit man."
"Couple flights of stairs gonna take you out, Yeffrey?"
"Keep callin' me that and I'm going to take you out, Mimi."
Alphonse smiled into his scope, tuning out the comms chatter as Chaudoin leaned in and muttered a string of data to him. His hands flitted up to the scope, adjusting the knobs for elevation and wind. Jeff was a good enough friend, but the bright attitude he always carried made his addition to a team that much more valuable. Not to mention that he was a crack shot. But then, they all were.
From three points around the park, sets of eyes rested inside an open window with a rifle pointed outside. One laid on the bed, while another braced himself on a kitchen table. The last was in the process of taking the telescope off its tripod and screwing it into the bottom of his rifle, grinning and feeling very clever. The outside glare and the dimness of their rooms made them nearly invisible to the outside world, three scopes and their digital counterparts trained on the open space of a park.
"Kirin Three in position, spotter's doing their thing." Alphonse nodded internally, less a movement and more an acknowledgement to himself that they were live.
Hazardous Response had sent Alphonse and his team here with four dossiers, a group of attendees to an upcoming charity gala whose contribution was going to put money in the pocket of someone that, by someone else's metric, was undeserving. The details of the "whys" and "whats" were, as always, sparse, so save for the physical description of their targets and the expected routes they would take, the folders only contained photos and maps of the area. Those folders had been studied with the same level of scrutinous detail with which they always were, every line and every backup plan committed to memory over the course of the drive in from HQ.
Alphonse checked his watch. "Three forty-four. Should be just a sec, now." Chaudoin settled in next to him, her blonde hair sweeping down over her shoulder as she peered through the eyelet of the rangefinder.
"Two twenty-one, one dot, click up by the 21." Her bell-like voice was pitched low, somehow a delicate ring in the dim bedroom despite her mild Australian accent. "How y'feelin'?" Her eyes flicked over to him for the barest moment. "And relax your shoulders, fucksake."
Alphonse rocked his body to bump her shoulders, careful not to shuffle his bipod or jostle her rangefinder for his playfulness. "How 'bout you relax at all then I'll relax my shoulders, mm?"
She huffed a quiet sigh, dropping her gaze and shaking her head. "Look you know how I get on these things, multiple targets—"
"Bitch you get like this no matter how many targets there—"
"Clear comms. Four questions on the table."
The play dropped immediately, Alphonse and Chaudoin's eyes snapping forward. Three men and a woman in dark suits with silver nametags had stepped out of a car worth more than the entire park's contents, chatting and laughing pleasantly amongst themselves. One carried a tablet, tapping away while taking part in the conversation, seemingly scrolling around some sort of shopping app. Their car pulled away, leaving them to start towards the park path. A start that would never finish.
A soprano whisper in Alphonse's ear: "Do you have the shot?" And then a new voice crackled over the commlinks in the Kirins ears.
"Kirin, charge."
Three rifles barked from three windows, three angles casting bronze projectiles through the intervening space and creating three red sprays behind three heads. The last standing man balked, dropping his tablet and casting his head around the park in a panic, looking at the open paths as if there were somewhere to go. He chose a direction, the one their car had departed in, and took off towards it as fast as his suited legs could carry. The car had stopped after hearing the gunshots, the doors thrown open. Another round of shots chased him through the air, impacting the concrete between his legs, the dirt behind him, and one of the marble pillars. He dove headfirst into the backseat and the car peeled out, another trio of bullets punching through the back windshield, but finding purchase in only glass and steel.
In the dining room of a small house on the edge of the city, six people sat around a table spread full of white Chinese take-out containers, nearly screaming with laughter into the sound-proofing panels that caked every wall in the house six inches deep. It was a fairly modest affair, that house, but one that they had affectionately named Headquarters whenever they all worked as a unit, gathering before and after operations to talk strategy and tactics, as well as simply coexist in each other's company. They all traveled for work; coming together was often only because of work, but they always made a point of finding the time.
"For me it was the dive," Alphonse said, a grain of rice popping out between his lips and drawing a giggle from the table. "They're after me!" he exclaimed, pantomiming diving across the table.
Jeff and his spotter—and wife—Madeline nearly cracked their heads against the table with their laughter, while Marcus and Emmanuel were more politely covering their mouths and noses trying to stifle their laughter.
"Imagine someone thinkin' we'd ever actually let 'em go, right?" shot Emmanuel, choking on rice while digging back into the white contained with his chopsticks.
Chaudoin, from her place next to Alphonse, was trying to shake her head around the can of Squirt she was sipping from. "Mm—nuh, no way, not a chance, not in this city f'sure, 'bout as easy as it gets out here with all those buildings. And that park is so flat?" She threw a waved hand. "Could hit someone in a fuckin' racecar, no shot."
They shared another laugh, and then another, their conversation turning more and more adventurous as they spoke of the upcoming steps. The gala was quite the draw for quite a good many big-wigs in the world of all things Big Money, and their inbox was piling up with marks. They would have work for weeks, yet, all within the city, and all with enough multi-target operations to guarantee that they would have many opportunities to work together along the way.
The hours wound on, and Jeff and Madeline were the first to tap out for bedtime. Madeline had had a bottle of Barefoot to herself and had been making eyes at Jeff for nearly a half hour. When she started to creep her hands under the table in front of them all, Jeff had balked, his face turning red, and at the gesturing from Alphonse and Marcus, scooped her up like a princess. The sounds of her kissing up his neck chased them down the stairs to where the basement had been set up as personal quarters. Marcus and Emmanuel made to go for a walk, planning on picking up a drink refresh from the quick-mart down the road. Alphonse and Chaudoin were left to clean up the food.
"Clean answers today, nice shootin'," she chimed as she stacked up empty containers.
Alphonse nodded, grinning proudly for a moment before he nodded his head upwards at her. "No clean answers without clean questions, eh?" He saw the blush in her cheeks as her face dropped, suddenly very focused on her cleanup, but Alphonse shifted and she looked up. "Hey, I'll handle this, yeah?" he asked, pulling her stack of boxes towards him. "Long day, why don't you get some sleep?"
Her lips twisted, and she bounced on her heel, seeming to suddenly be uncomfortably nervous. "You think she's gonna be in town for this?" Her voice was thick in the back of her throat, half-choked.
Alphonse was nodding, half to himself and half to Chaudoin, already lost enough in his mental spreadsheets to not notice Chaudoin's cough and the way she was now staring at the floor. "Bait seems good; she's been local and there's a lot of big names here. We still don't know what her motives are, really, but she at least seems to always operate along a path."
Chaudoin looked like she was about to say something, but decided against it, making for the stairs but pausing just as her hand touched the railing. She looked back up at Alphonse, her smile as sincere as she could muster. "Well, good luck then?" Alphonse did not seem to notice how it was a question as he grinned and nodded back at her, and then she was down the stairs.
Alphonse finished the kitchen cleanup, wiping off the tables with one earbud in, listening to a newsfeed from one of his personal connections regarding their competition. Usually, that was where he found his first signs that Amoret was on her way.
"Kirin Two in position. Awaiting DOPE and spotter."
"Kirin Three moving into position, T-minus... fuckin' one more flight of stairs, ah shit man."
"Couple flights of stairs gonna take you out, Yeffrey?"
"Keep callin' me that and I'm going to take you out, Mimi."
Alphonse smiled into his scope, tuning out the comms chatter as Chaudoin leaned in and muttered a string of data to him. His hands flitted up to the scope, adjusting the knobs for elevation and wind. Jeff was a good enough friend, but the bright attitude he always carried made his addition to a team that much more valuable. Not to mention that he was a crack shot. But then, they all were.
From three points around the park, sets of eyes rested inside an open window with a rifle pointed outside. One laid on the bed, while another braced himself on a kitchen table. The last was in the process of taking the telescope off its tripod and screwing it into the bottom of his rifle, grinning and feeling very clever. The outside glare and the dimness of their rooms made them nearly invisible to the outside world, three scopes and their digital counterparts trained on the open space of a park."Kirin Three in position, spotter's doing their thing." Alphonse nodded internally, less a movement and more an acknowledgement to himself that they were live.
Hazardous Response had sent Alphonse and his team here with four dossiers, a group of attendees to an upcoming charity gala whose contribution was going to put money in the pocket of someone that, by someone else's metric, was undeserving. The details of the "whys" and "whats" were, as always, sparse, so save for the physical description of their targets and the expected routes they would take, the folders only contained photos and maps of the area. Those folders had been studied with the same level of scrutinous detail with which they always were, every line and every backup plan committed to memory over the course of the drive in from HQ.
Alphonse checked his watch. "Three forty-four. Should be just a sec, now." Chaudoin settled in next to him, her blonde hair sweeping down over her shoulder as she peered through the eyelet of the rangefinder.
"Two twenty-one, one dot, click up by the 21." Her bell-like voice was pitched low, somehow a delicate ring in the dim bedroom despite her mild Australian accent. "How y'feelin'?" Her eyes flicked over to him for the barest moment. "And relax your shoulders, fucksake."
Alphonse rocked his body to bump her shoulders, careful not to shuffle his bipod or jostle her rangefinder for his playfulness. "How 'bout you relax at all then I'll relax my shoulders, mm?"
She huffed a quiet sigh, dropping her gaze and shaking her head. "Look you know how I get on these things, multiple targets—"
"Bitch you get like this no matter how many targets there—"
"Clear comms. Four questions on the table."
The play dropped immediately, Alphonse and Chaudoin's eyes snapping forward. Three men and a woman in dark suits with silver nametags had stepped out of a car worth more than the entire park's contents, chatting and laughing pleasantly amongst themselves. One carried a tablet, tapping away while taking part in the conversation, seemingly scrolling around some sort of shopping app. Their car pulled away, leaving them to start towards the park path. A start that would never finish.
A soprano whisper in Alphonse's ear: "Do you have the shot?" And then a new voice crackled over the commlinks in the Kirins ears.
"Kirin, charge."
Three rifles barked from three windows, three angles casting bronze projectiles through the intervening space and creating three red sprays behind three heads. The last standing man balked, dropping his tablet and casting his head around the park in a panic, looking at the open paths as if there were somewhere to go. He chose a direction, the one their car had departed in, and took off towards it as fast as his suited legs could carry. The car had stopped after hearing the gunshots, the doors thrown open. Another round of shots chased him through the air, impacting the concrete between his legs, the dirt behind him, and one of the marble pillars. He dove headfirst into the backseat and the car peeled out, another trio of bullets punching through the back windshield, but finding purchase in only glass and steel.
In the dining room of a small house on the edge of the city, six people sat around a table spread full of white Chinese take-out containers, nearly screaming with laughter into the sound-proofing panels that caked every wall in the house six inches deep. It was a fairly modest affair, that house, but one that they had affectionately named Headquarters whenever they all worked as a unit, gathering before and after operations to talk strategy and tactics, as well as simply coexist in each other's company. They all traveled for work; coming together was often only because of work, but they always made a point of finding the time.
"For me it was the dive," Alphonse said, a grain of rice popping out between his lips and drawing a giggle from the table. "They're after me!" he exclaimed, pantomiming diving across the table.
Jeff and his spotter—and wife—Madeline nearly cracked their heads against the table with their laughter, while Marcus and Emmanuel were more politely covering their mouths and noses trying to stifle their laughter.
"Imagine someone thinkin' we'd ever actually let 'em go, right?" shot Emmanuel, choking on rice while digging back into the white contained with his chopsticks.
Chaudoin, from her place next to Alphonse, was trying to shake her head around the can of Squirt she was sipping from. "Mm—nuh, no way, not a chance, not in this city f'sure, 'bout as easy as it gets out here with all those buildings. And that park is so flat?" She threw a waved hand. "Could hit someone in a fuckin' racecar, no shot."
They shared another laugh, and then another, their conversation turning more and more adventurous as they spoke of the upcoming steps. The gala was quite the draw for quite a good many big-wigs in the world of all things Big Money, and their inbox was piling up with marks. They would have work for weeks, yet, all within the city, and all with enough multi-target operations to guarantee that they would have many opportunities to work together along the way.
The hours wound on, and Jeff and Madeline were the first to tap out for bedtime. Madeline had had a bottle of Barefoot to herself and had been making eyes at Jeff for nearly a half hour. When she started to creep her hands under the table in front of them all, Jeff had balked, his face turning red, and at the gesturing from Alphonse and Marcus, scooped her up like a princess. The sounds of her kissing up his neck chased them down the stairs to where the basement had been set up as personal quarters. Marcus and Emmanuel made to go for a walk, planning on picking up a drink refresh from the quick-mart down the road. Alphonse and Chaudoin were left to clean up the food.
"Clean answers today, nice shootin'," she chimed as she stacked up empty containers.
Alphonse nodded, grinning proudly for a moment before he nodded his head upwards at her. "No clean answers without clean questions, eh?" He saw the blush in her cheeks as her face dropped, suddenly very focused on her cleanup, but Alphonse shifted and she looked up. "Hey, I'll handle this, yeah?" he asked, pulling her stack of boxes towards him. "Long day, why don't you get some sleep?"
Her lips twisted, and she bounced on her heel, seeming to suddenly be uncomfortably nervous. "You think she's gonna be in town for this?" Her voice was thick in the back of her throat, half-choked.
Alphonse was nodding, half to himself and half to Chaudoin, already lost enough in his mental spreadsheets to not notice Chaudoin's cough and the way she was now staring at the floor. "Bait seems good; she's been local and there's a lot of big names here. We still don't know what her motives are, really, but she at least seems to always operate along a path."
Chaudoin looked like she was about to say something, but decided against it, making for the stairs but pausing just as her hand touched the railing. She looked back up at Alphonse, her smile as sincere as she could muster. "Well, good luck then?" Alphonse did not seem to notice how it was a question as he grinned and nodded back at her, and then she was down the stairs.
Alphonse finished the kitchen cleanup, wiping off the tables with one earbud in, listening to a newsfeed from one of his personal connections regarding their competition. Usually, that was where he found his first signs that Amoret was on her way.
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