08-17-2013, 06:19 AM
<small>((Hood's work was done with permission. My moding of Aria and Michael also done with permission.</small>
The next thing Jax knew he was cold clocked and checking the floor. Wasn't like things weren't rough enough, but his head swam alarmingly. Sounds of fighting lifted his gaze as he shoved himself upright. Jax was rubbing his jaw and testing out the motion of a back tooth while White kicked the shit out of Sicko in the room across the hall.
Mall cop wasn't the only one to hear the distant yell, and the popping of four point-blank shots into Sicko was enough to remind Jaxen to get out of this hell-hole. White paused in the door and chucked the knife toward an unamused Jaxen. It skid to a stop short of his knees. He stared at White flatly. "Took you long enough to take down one skinny hippy,"
he yelled as White ran out of sight.
Jaxen grabbed the knife and tested out his footing. Balance and coordination was kind of head honcho in Jaxen's bag of tricks. "Little cocksucker,"
he rubbed his jaw again, "could have at least bought me a drink first."
Finally, his thoughts circled back around to White's initial demand. Hell, Jaxen had been so happy to see the son of a bitch, he'd nearly forgotten about the lighter. He slapped a palm to his hip and pat the flattened pocket, more pissed he'd lost the thing again than having been coldclocked to get it back.
Pissed, and holding a knife, Jaxen glanced at the lump in the corner. She'd not cried out in a while -- he was pretty sure -- Jaxen was pretty good at ignoring her bitching by the time all this went down. Which meant he wasn't about to waste time galloping to her rescue. Jaxen was no hero; not even with the motivation to put her out of her misery. Had he been holding a pistol? Maybe. Because who doesn't enjoy shooting a pistol?
Before he made it another step, a chick came dashing in. Wielding a gun in one hand and a sword in another, Jaxen was torn between sticking her in the throat with White's knife or hitting on her. She was kind of hot. In a seriously fucked up chick with daddy issues kind of way. Which were always the best ones, so long as the right precautions are made -- you know, fake alias, no last names, never take her back to your real place, actually best to never take her anywhere and just bang her in the bathroom and get it over with, and absolutely no mailing, texting or calling.
Unfortunately for her, Jaxen was rather occupied with getting the fuck out of here. So he scrubbed a hand through his hair, appropriately tossling it, and stride forward. "Excuse me sweetheart. Got places to be, and they aren't here."
She looked at him flatly, then seemed to acknowledge something Jax neither saw nor heard, and left.
Jaxen shrugged and made toward the exit, but the sight of a second lever caught his eye on the way. He glanced upward, following the line of chains toward Earless' corner. "Sorry chick. But believe me, you don't want to be rescued,"
he told her, if she was still alive, or if she could still hear.
Not a few steps from freedom, Jaxen's escape was blocked a third time by a brute in a big black coat. Unlike White and Daddy Issues, this guy was not armed to the teeth. Though Jaxen was far from ignorant. Coats that size were only worn for one thing: concealment.
Pissed, jaw throbbing, arms sore, and tired of all the delays, Jaxen charged the stranger without hesitation. Hopefully before pretty boy had a chance to draw a weapon.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Aug 17 2013, 06:21 AM.
The next thing Jax knew he was cold clocked and checking the floor. Wasn't like things weren't rough enough, but his head swam alarmingly. Sounds of fighting lifted his gaze as he shoved himself upright. Jax was rubbing his jaw and testing out the motion of a back tooth while White kicked the shit out of Sicko in the room across the hall.
Mall cop wasn't the only one to hear the distant yell, and the popping of four point-blank shots into Sicko was enough to remind Jaxen to get out of this hell-hole. White paused in the door and chucked the knife toward an unamused Jaxen. It skid to a stop short of his knees. He stared at White flatly. "Took you long enough to take down one skinny hippy,"
he yelled as White ran out of sight.
Jaxen grabbed the knife and tested out his footing. Balance and coordination was kind of head honcho in Jaxen's bag of tricks. "Little cocksucker,"
he rubbed his jaw again, "could have at least bought me a drink first."
Finally, his thoughts circled back around to White's initial demand. Hell, Jaxen had been so happy to see the son of a bitch, he'd nearly forgotten about the lighter. He slapped a palm to his hip and pat the flattened pocket, more pissed he'd lost the thing again than having been coldclocked to get it back.
Pissed, and holding a knife, Jaxen glanced at the lump in the corner. She'd not cried out in a while -- he was pretty sure -- Jaxen was pretty good at ignoring her bitching by the time all this went down. Which meant he wasn't about to waste time galloping to her rescue. Jaxen was no hero; not even with the motivation to put her out of her misery. Had he been holding a pistol? Maybe. Because who doesn't enjoy shooting a pistol?
Before he made it another step, a chick came dashing in. Wielding a gun in one hand and a sword in another, Jaxen was torn between sticking her in the throat with White's knife or hitting on her. She was kind of hot. In a seriously fucked up chick with daddy issues kind of way. Which were always the best ones, so long as the right precautions are made -- you know, fake alias, no last names, never take her back to your real place, actually best to never take her anywhere and just bang her in the bathroom and get it over with, and absolutely no mailing, texting or calling.
Unfortunately for her, Jaxen was rather occupied with getting the fuck out of here. So he scrubbed a hand through his hair, appropriately tossling it, and stride forward. "Excuse me sweetheart. Got places to be, and they aren't here."
She looked at him flatly, then seemed to acknowledge something Jax neither saw nor heard, and left.
Jaxen shrugged and made toward the exit, but the sight of a second lever caught his eye on the way. He glanced upward, following the line of chains toward Earless' corner. "Sorry chick. But believe me, you don't want to be rescued,"
he told her, if she was still alive, or if she could still hear.
Not a few steps from freedom, Jaxen's escape was blocked a third time by a brute in a big black coat. Unlike White and Daddy Issues, this guy was not armed to the teeth. Though Jaxen was far from ignorant. Coats that size were only worn for one thing: concealment.
Pissed, jaw throbbing, arms sore, and tired of all the delays, Jaxen charged the stranger without hesitation. Hopefully before pretty boy had a chance to draw a weapon.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Aug 17 2013, 06:21 AM.