Post by Rude on Oct 18, 2012 2:48:56 GMT
| [cs=2][atrb=width,500,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][STYLE=font-family: arial; font-size: 30px; color: #ececec; background-color: #0f0f0f; text-transform: uppercase;padding: 4px 4px 4px 20px;display: inline;float: left;]Business will be business...[/style] | |
| [cs=2][atrb=style, background-color: #0f0f0f][STYLE=margin: 10px 10px 10px 100px; border-left: 1px solid #b1b1b1; color: #b1b1b1; padding: 5px;text-align: justify;font-size: 10px;] Well, for once, Rude had been granted a mission involving a marked target that needed to die; only this time, he couldn't simply go in and pummel the crap out of anyone in his way. This job called for finesse. It called for style. It called for a smooth operator. That's why they picked Rude. With a small communicator hidden just inside his ear, his suit nice and neatly pressed and a pair of expensive designer shades on his face, Rude leaned against the rental car that many Turks took on their operations; they could switch out the plates and tags as needed to make things believable. This job was all about first impressions; he couldn't just walk straight in the door and expect to not be searched and asked questions. This is one of many situations where being a deadly weapon without something in your hands proved incredibly practical; he didn't even have a gun on him, since as far as he and the rest of the Turks were concerned, his fists were like hammers in and of themselves. He leaned against the trunk of the car with a nearly entirely smoked cigar, taking the final drag as he went over the plan in his head. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he took out a small cylindrical case and stuck the butt into it; after all, no evidence. He scraped up the ashes with his shoes then applied a little bit of cologne to smell a bit more high-class than tobacco. He watched the guards at the door carefully. The plan was pretty simple, really; Rude was to go in to the building and hand over a fake resume concerning security detail, working as a freelance bouncer-then-bodyguard for high rollers. He'd already taken care of that part and scored a fake interview, which he passed with flying colors after smashing a table in half when asked for a demonstration of his prowess for the job. It was crude, but the look on the guy's face was completely priceless. After he was let in, he'd present anyone who asked with a fake ID provided by the cubicle nerds at ShinRa Inc., then wait until after hours where the big man would need to be escorted home. He'd kill the guy, lop off a finger as proof, stuff him in the trunk and take him back to HQ for proper disposal. The building itself wasn't much to brag about. It was in a slummier sector of Midgar, which meant cameras probably weren't going to be a gigantic issue. He had a feeling the guy was some sort of loan shark or drug peddler judging by the appearance of the shoddy building which in all honesty, from the outside, looked like it should have been condemned. Another possibility was materia trade; it seemed more and more of his targets and even gang lieutenants were getting a hold of the stuff somehow, and it didn't make things any easier. No matter how he sliced the issue, it came down to a simple matter of him stopping some sort of operation before it got off the ground by giving this guy's neck a good twist. He approached the building from the parking lot and made his way to the front door, presenting his fake ID to be let inside. He had to admit though, the inside looked much better than the outside. Everything was pretty well put together and it was obvious this guy had something to hide, and a lot of Gil. The decorations were tacky and ridiculous, obviously bought just to show off, and he had several guards on patrol in suits. Rude knew he'd have to watch himself and watch his interactions closely, otherwise this whole operation could wind up botched and he'd have to default to plan B; if it breathes, make it stop, and blame it on gang violence. That was pretty much a mark of shame among the Turks though, so he was going to avoid that if he could. [/style] | |
| [atrb=width,430][atrb=vAlign,middle][STYLE=text-align: right; padding: 10px;font-family: arial narrow;font-size: 13px;]NOTES: TAGGED: WORD COUNT: [/style] | [atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=width,70][STYLE=float: right; border: 10px solid #0f0f0f;] [/style] |
| [cs=2][STYLE=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; text-align: right;]template made by pianissimo of BTN[/style] |