The Tunnel Snakes

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Most users ever online was 13 on Tue Jun 23, 2015 9:32 pm
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Rhel'ir

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Join date : 2015-02-06
Age : 19
Location : Chicago, Illinois

PostSubject: ....   Fri Mar 06, 2015 3:52 pm

"What the fuck is so important he can't just do it over the phone?"

A sigh slipped into the cold night air of Chicago, Illinois, from a certain 'problem child' of a mafia member. While Toren wasn't much of a socialite to begin with, it had apparently been a 'concern' of Eric's that he left his home more. His four walls had been too much of a sanctuary. He had too much pride to admit that he'd noticed himself.. slipping, for lack of a better word. The more he contemplated leaving his house or talking to others, the shorter his patience and the more tedious the task seemed. It was especially annoying when it came to people who sought him out for petty information; he'd be lying if he said he hadn't killed the last four people who'd come to his doorstep, and let others take care of the bodies. He lied a lot.

There was no time to think about those choices, however. His brother had told him that his meeting with Tyr was of the highest level of importance, apparently enough so for him to not be able to discuss it over the phone. The immortal wasn't sure what his brother was trying to hide from everyone else. Whatever it was, he hoped it'd be something quick and easy enough for him to go home soon. Just the sight of her doorstep made his stomach churn with a mix of uneasiness and irritation. Fuck this.

After a moment of preparing himself for her presence, the white-haired mafia boss gently rapped his knuckles against the cold wood of her door.
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Lame

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Location : Watervliet, MI.

PostSubject: Re: ....   Sat Mar 07, 2015 3:15 pm

Two men were sitting in Tyr's place, in recliners across from each other. They were waiting, and had a job to do. Yes, Toren, this job is VERY important. When they heard the rapping, the one on the left would pipe up. "Eh dat 'im?" Said the brute, masquerade mask doing little to hide his confused and dumbly innocent eyes. "'uuno. Go deck." Said the other as he pointed at the door, using his other large hand to grab a bat. His mask was slightly different, it was black instead of white. They both wore white suits, posing as a rival gang.

"Otay." Said the white masked one, before standing up and lumbering towards the door. The black masked one made a soft grunting noise as he followed in pursuit. Then, the white masked grunt opened the door and stared down at the small Toren. Yeah, this guy was probably three times his size. "It 'im!" He shouted, before hopping on both legs one at a time and giving his hands a few claps. "Boss wull be hoopy! Boss will be hoopy!" The white masked one shouted in glee, practically making the ground rumble before Toren. Then, the black masked one jumped out the window to try and flank the poor boy. "GIT 'IM! GIT 'IM!" He shouted before rushing towards Toren like a lumbering idiot. The White Masked one let out a retarded sounded "GUH!" while trying to grab the boy by the back of the neck. If it went well, the black masked one would swing the bat against his fucking dome and knock him out.


____________________________________________________________________________________

Upon waking up, the boy would find himself tied to a pole, and the surrounding area would be quite familiar. On a studious glance, it would be assumed this is where Toren and Eric met. Something was going on here, but it was hard to distinguish what. A lot of people knew of their origin, since they were pretty much legends. Could this be another boss trying to do something stupid? God, the smell of burnt flesh and wood still lingered in the air. It was as if the devil himself marked the place of Toren's first death.
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PostSubject: Re: ....   Sun Mar 22, 2015 11:41 am

It would have been natural for Toren to reach for his gun, or turn away and flee the moment the door opened to reveal the thugs waiting for him. However, the boy did not move. Perhaps it was the sensation of initial shock at what stood beyond the door, or the realization that his chances of actually fleeing pursuit were so slim that it might as well have been impossible, but he stayed firmly where he stood, feeling the arm around his neck and the bat to his skull.

The first sensation he noticed upon regaining consciousness was the throbbing in his skull, blood crusted in his hair and creating streaks of red through the fluffy tresses. The second note was the scent lingering in the air, causing a very prominent scowl to appear on his visage. Burning..? The moment his carmine eyes allowed themselves to glance upward, he took in a sharp breath, immediately registering, even in the fuzziest corners of his still-coming-to mind, that this was not a good situation. His slim arms attempted to struggle against his bindings, only succeeding in causing him more frustration than anything. He was definitely stuck where he was.

What bothered him most was not the pain or the realization he could possibly die; rather, it was the conditions that had lead him here. Eric had told him to go to Tyr's doorstep. What waited for him was not Tyr Corentine. This meant either someone had listened in and somehow gotten rid of Tyr within time - two things that were hardly possible on their own - or his brother had betrayed him. The second possibility, though much more likely, caused a legitimate sensation of nervousness to flutter through his stomach. Eric knew everything about him. He knew the conditions of his contract, the ways to kill him forever, the ways to bother him immensely, and the types of pain he couldn't endure. He understood Toren's mind, and how to jam the gears that worked in such a complex manner within it.

Quickly did the sensation of despair turn into some twisted form of apathy, the scowl dropping to a completely deadpanned expression. It wasn't like he could do much in this state. Just from the weight of the hoodie loosely donning his skinny frame, he knew he wasn't equipped with his handgun or his knife. It was clear that, even if he did somehow pull himself out of his bound position on the pole, he wouldn't get very far. He wasn't alone; someone would be stupid to leave Toren J. Harper by himself if they were keeping him captive. His best option was to play it off coolly. If it was Eric behind this, and God did he wish that wasn't a possibility, he would need to play a real fuckin' mindgame to do something about it.

For now, he kept his gaze focused on the area around him, waiting for whoever thought it'd be brilliant to capture him to show their face.
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