Return to Sender .: Open :.

[devildriver]

In the event that one was to come across something they could not handle, ideally they would find help whether it was temporary or permanent. However this was not the particular case with Richard who had always been alone and would remain alone for all of his life. He believed that it was just meant to be that way and he had no particular qualms with it. I mean he was virtually immortal, had no reason to bear children, and was very well off in his own mind. He lit up the rolled paper with the green substance in it. This was his vice, it was his addiction and he refused to give it up. It calmed him so serenely and was like his inspiration.

It had been no more than a week past since he had executed the Penejerio Family Crime boss for some government agency without a name. He had been paid in full upon the completion of his assignment and the Mafia were looking for some other family who had a grudge against them. Ironic isn't it that one dead fat man and the whole group of criminals assume it was a gangland killing? They would have never suspected some low dock worker.

That was what he had been doing to cover his tracks and make sure that he had the right target and the right area. Of course it was so quiet and discrete they would not have searched for the shooter even if they knew it was not another Family hit. They hardly ever look for the shooter and just take it out on whatever family they currently hate. It was ironic that such a thing could happen but in America, anything is possible.

Now to make a few more thousand dollars he simply had to place the charge. The nearly fifteen pounds of explosives with the hair trigger timer, and a secondary back up timer just in case they tried to get smart with him. Inside the small box were another 2 pounds of small pellets like the kind you put in buck shot. When this went off in the Tenelli house it would look like another hit on the family. And with the amount of explosives in the box it would easily take out nearly a dozen people.

Placing it neatly under the limo he had seen let out the head of the family and the nearly 10 people whom had been with him Rich walks away casually. He was dressed in a postman outfit so no one expected anything of it just thought it was a package of drugs that needed to be dropped off. As he left the paper or invoice saying "Return to Sender" on the top of the box. Once it was opened hopefully in the car then there would be blood, ass and guts everywhere. If not, at least he would take out a few of those fat rat bastards as they seemed to like to call one another.

Lighting up another of his little cigarette like instruments of calm he disrobes and changes into his normal attire so that he could not be tracked that way either throwing a lighter into a barrel of paper and cardboard and burning the uniform and the latex, skin colored gloves.

"Another job done, and done well" he says hearing a loud explosion a few blocks away and knowing everything had gone to plan as the car must have been in motion when the package was opened.

[jay]

It had all been a matter of chance. Just a few seconds before or after and Jay would not have heard anything, wouldn’t have had any clue.

He had been walking along the street, swiftly, his jacket wrapped around him tightly. He wasn’t really Jay at the moment, but Cyanide, since he was working, though he himself disliked the nickname, since such things were childish and silly. Besides, calling himself by some tacky name was not really how he wanted to represent himself to the employers. Still, the name had stuck, first as an insult, and when he had gained a little reputation, as a sort of a code-name. So Cyanide he was, although reluctantly.

He had been hired by a still rather unknown, but slowly climbing his way to the top, man, to take care of another certain man in Tenelli household. It was supposed to be quick, clean, and without any tracking marks. He knew just what to use.
All this was forgotten, however, while he was still few blocks away from his destination, and he suddenly heard the explosion.
Jay blinked, his steps faltering. It had come from the direction of the house of his target. But it couldn’t, couldn’t it…

“Another job done, and done well,” he heard someone say, close to him and he swung around to look at a satisfied brown-haired man in his twenties. The explosion and the comment right afterwards, the man apparently having stopped to listen to the sound as well. Everything clicked in Jay’s head and his eyes widened.

“Oh hell no,” he exclaimed out loud, and then cursed himself, grimacing. He hadn't meant to, but the annoyance had been too much. Best to pretend he didn't know just what had happened. Who knew, maybe it hadn't? Oh, who was he kidding...
He turned around again, away from the man, repeating curses in his head like a mantra.

[devildriver]

Puffing lightly on his little stick of happiness letting the chemicals take over his current mood Straker walks through some alley's to lose anyone who might be trying to tail him. He had heard one man speak but thought nothing of it and continued to walk away with nothing more to say and nothing more to do here. His job had been completed and no doubt the money had been added to his account post haste upon finding out it was completed.

The police would likely turn over their usual suspects and go through the little ties in the underworld and some might even take a pay raise and kill whoever did the deed. But their efforts would go in vain, their attempts wasted on a man dressed like a post man and without a good look no one could identify Rich out of a thousand others. Picking up the small black Razr phone he had purchased and punching in the numbers he holds the reciever up to his head.

"Target Pheonix one has been taken care of" he remarks lightly and hints no overtone of being nervous or excited, a side effect of the drug of choice. "Well done, the money has been added to your account. We will keep your number on file for any other operations that might need your assistance." remarks the man in a cold dry tone. With that the line went dead and Richard closed the phone.

Walking down a few more blocks he stumbles upon the "Lucky 7's" sports bar which was some little hole in the wall pub no doubt. But these hole in the wall places generally did not water down the whiskey as they did not need to worry about making a ton of money. They just got by on their faithful patrons who refused to go to other places. Inside the bar there were less than a dozen men, and the bartender which seemed to be well into his fifties.

Sitting down at the bar and waiting for the elderly man to come over Rich goes over his figures on his small PDA. "What can I get ya" the man asks in a dry tone that one who had a bad cold would sound like. "Just some Thompson. Bring the bottle" Rich replies and looks around at the few people who were in here.

[jay]

Well, screw this. Jay was currently newly unemployed, and it was solely the fault of the man he had heard speaking earlier, he just knew it. If only he would know for sure…
Fidgeting for a moment, Jay finally turned and followed the man, quietly and some distance away, nonchalantly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, strolling calmly as if out for a walk, when he was in fact straining his ears to hear what the man was talking to his phone.
“-been taken care of-,” he could hear this much, and that just strengthened his suspicions that he had just met a fellow assassin. Well, wasn’t that just dandy? Perhaps Jay would use his poison for something tonight after all. No, no, he couldn't think like that. It wasn't even a paid job, he just couldn't.

Jay followed the man, regardless, wandering some distance behind him, smoking in sort of an absent way and trying not to seem suspicious, not that that was too hard. He’d had practice, after all. He cursed mentally when he saw the other man go in a bar. Jay loathed bars. He disliked drinking, and drunken people made him vaguely desire to stab someone, mainly the drunken people. Still, he was going to find out more about this. He figured he needed to know about his co-workers/competition, to prepare him for the next time something like this would happen. Perhaps with a nice syringe of- No, stay focused here!

Spending a few moments to fret in front of the bar, Jay finally slipped inside, wandering towards the bar desk and spending a good moment arguing with the elderly man serving the drinks whether Jay could have a glass of water for free or not. He finally gave up when the bartender threatened to throw him out, and ordered gin and tonic with air of defeat. Then the old man left to serve someone else further away at the bar. Jay followed him with his eyes, seeing him carry a whole bottle to-
-to the man Jay had been following. Great, found him then.

[devildriver]

The scent had caught him before he had entered the pub and had appeared again inside. His keen senses allowed Straker to smell out the tail on him. It was hilarious to think that some one would be able to tail him this far, though it was still day light out. Had it been a little later, that would not have been the case at all. Him being a Lycan and all it would be a bit harder to find him as he could scale walls and jump quite high still. It was easy to tell who the stranger was and why they were here as everyone else in the bar was a lycan or a vampire. This was one of those little dives that housed others like his kind. The only human in the entire joint was the bartender so the man furthest from him right now could easily be noticed amongst a room of dead and furry guys and gals.

He had three more drinks and looked at his fairly expensive watch before he decided to make his way out and about. Of course now was way past dusk by a hour at least and it would be quite easy for him to lose the tail via transformation if he was given enough time and if the human happened to see him transforming, it would be the last thing the human ever sees. No, Richard did not kill others for the sheer pleasure he simply would tear the eyes out of the mans sockets and rip out his tongue just to keep him quiet. If Richard was described as a werewolf to any hunters it would make him a large target and one at that.

Being built like he was often meant that it was not the easiest thing to do to fit in small places but still a little possible. He had contemplated changing in the bathroom but figured it would be a bad idea anyway. So he paid the tab in a straight 100 dollar bill and left the bar turning down an alley into a back room of the bar and locking it behind him. This room was strictly for Lycans and was completely empty except for a small window like hole at the top of the ceiling which was open. The solid steel doors could protect him from any incoming small arms fire for a few minutes at least and give him enough time to transform and get out. Of course one could ask for the keys to get into such rooms if they wished it, but for a human it was indeed a foolish thing to do.

His muscles, bones and skin felt tense for a moment and then the familiar stinging sensation began to take over. Fur burst from his skin and his bones as well as muscles shifted more to protect his vital organs as more ribs appeared and some bent to the shape they needed to be. Before long his full lycan transformation had been completed and he simply jumped out of the opening in the roof above. This would lose his tail and confirm his suspicions to see if it was the man he thought or some one else. Ironically it was he who now was following whoever tried to track him.