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Post by Zain Jinn Armando on Dec 30, 2013 16:10:18 GMT -5
It begins. A new hero has entered the image of Remoor's grounds. A man so fierce, so courageous, so pure that he scared the corrupt away. Go now, new guy, go save Remoor.
Heading from roof to roof and from alley to alley, Jango kept a close eye on the slums. It was already known by man that this part of the city was the most dangerous, filled with thugs and thiefs. Anything evil is seen here. Climbing a ladder that was slightly rusty, Jango headed to the roof where a good view could be seen from the slums. If there was any illegal activity being held, Jango could appear on the scene in mere seconds, leaving the bad guys no way to respond to a surprise attack inflicted by him and Loco too if the effort was ever needed.
Jango looked up in the sky and saw a beautiful dark sky with the graceful moon shining. ''The ever so excquisite moon, a diamond shaped by the universe itself, that calms my heart into thinking I'm not alone in the life of crime-fighting. Lady moon helps me find these persons much faster than usual.'' Looking down on the streets again, Jango would see some shadows from the street lamps moving. ''Now now, let me check what these people are doing at this time of night'' and with a swift move, Jango disappeared from the roof and headed to where the shadows where.
Hiding next to a building where the thiefs were, Jango could swear he saw 3 people. 1 being very angry in particular. Here we go with a new crime in progress.
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Post by Ezekiel " The Merchant" Harris on Jan 5, 2014 6:49:10 GMT -5
The beauty of the moon was lost to these storm grey eyes. In truth, if he had a lasso and a large enough warehouse, this particular individual would sell it to the highest bidder. A few times, staring up at the rocky thing, Ezekiel had debated just that.
He was currently in the confines of a dirty alley. Graffiti, raning from neon pink to the color of dull red, happily proclaimed profanity across old bricks. He did not notice any danger within this place; the boarded up windows, abandoned businesses, and surly occupants bothered the black-market later. The slums were no different to that keen vision than the wealthiest area of Nada Citadel; people all broke crimes—the wealthy often hired others to do the dirty work. This place was, at the very least, honest; no one could afford assassins or politicians. In a place like this, where Ezekiel operated, the dirt and grime felt like home.
In truth, as he stared into the eyes of his two newest clients, the man saw two colors. It was not the swatches found in the smeared spray paint. It had little to do with the dirty auburn and smoky cinder blocks. It had to do with two emotions boiling beneath his willowy service; both of them threatened to spill over.
First he saw green. It was the color of envy and money. Ezekiel counted the bills within his hands. He paused, frowned, and repeated the action. "Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one . . ." It was not even a quarter of the agreed upon amount.
Then, Ezekiel saw pure crimson. His hands shook with poorly-disguised anger. All he heard, as the man spoke, was the clucking of a chicken due death. The larger of the two, standing behind the first male, knew better than to speak.
Glasses, gleaming oddly in the dim street lights, shook with his words. Sausage like fingers, showing with obvious sweat, intertwined like serpents. “Now, Mister Harris, we truly don’t have the money----“ The voice, raised high and nasally echoed down the alley. He was fidgeting and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Luckily, as he had stalked things far faster than a frightened man, Ezekiel gave little sign of his violent approach.
For looking like a branch, lacking any sort of muscle, he had a surprising amount of strength behind his movements. Pouncing on the chubby man, lifting him up and propping him against the soot-stained wall, the scarred face contorted in anger. “I can take it out of your fucking hide if you want!” He allowed a few heartbeats to pass, slowly relaxing and calming; this was complete bullshit sadly—money was at stake. The person within his grasp gave a sigh of relief.
The face twisted into a look of maniacal glee. The pale lips, crisscrossed with white scars, contorted into a smirk.
A boot slammed into his groin area with a vengeance. A knee followed and painfully pushed sensitive body parts into the rough wall behind. The black-market dealer turned his head slightly at a noise within the alley way. His friend, approaching to protect his associate, found himself facing a steely gaze. A dagger had appeared in lanky fingertips.
Twice, just to be certain the dullard understood, he gave a slow shake of his head. The blade quivered. It was from rage though. He was angry. The urge to gut either man, maybe sell his organs on the black market, became stronger. Taking a deep breath, remembering how worthwhile this job had been, he pulled back.
The pair had commissioned him to capture a healthy Milotic; it had been a harrowing task when coupled with the infection. Lifting his head haughtily, dagger moving from man. The moonlight gleamed off the blade.“You gentleman, lovely as you fucking are, have two weeks to pay in full for the merchandise.” He allowed a moment for his words to sink in. “ It will be destroyed if you do not—and the blame placed upon your shoulders.” He had little concern for life—regardless of what it was.
“He’ll do it too asswipes!” The Rattata, feeling it was his moment to interject, leered from between soft-soled boots. Beady crimson eyes, which were bruised from an earlier beating over this very situation, took a few steps forward. The Milotic was a pretty lady too—he didn’t want to see it did. “Can’t even count I bet—“
He might just kill the disgusting beast early—no one ever said he was a nice man. Ezekiel could break deals rather easily when provoked. Jerking his thumb angrily, dismissing the clients, the man turned to head home.
The presence of the ‘superhero’ went unnoticed—for a moment. The man turned, pausing, and seemed to stare directly at the ‘mysterious’ figure. Whatever. Let the damn idiot play dress-up.
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Post by Zain Jinn Armando on Feb 2, 2014 8:42:41 GMT -5
Hiding beside one of the walls, he occassionaly gleemed over to what devilish practices were made upon this time of the night. When the hero looked over, he still saw three individuals doing something that looked like a deal. ''Another one of these black market secret deals, could it be something with merchandise? Slave trade? I'll soon figure it out..''
Glooming over again for a second time, Jango saw that two of the individuals were paying the third guy for something. One of the guys yelled a bit louder than usual and a conversation soon started. Jango opened his ears more to listen to what they had to say and what they were dealing with.
A few moments later Jango could hear the guy getting paid say something about hide something and destroying said object if the full amount of money was not paid due in time.
''Ah, so that guy was paid to retrieve something or better yet....someone. A pokémon? A human? When will this ever stop?''
There was not much after that happening anymore and the guy who was getting paid told the other two guys to be on their way. This is Jango's chance to snatch the shady guy. Those other two persons are to be dealt with later.
Walking away from the wall and hiding somewhere so the other two persons could pass him, Jango went on his way to the soon to be uncovered character in front of him, who seemed to notice Jango already.
''Crap, it's because of my clothes, they don't hide well in the shadows. Oh well.''
Hiding out from the shadows, Jango took small steps towards the mysterious figure, looking at him and vice-versa.
''You stop there right now criminal scum! What evil have you spawned upon this place?''
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Post by Ezekiel " The Merchant" Harris on Feb 5, 2014 6:17:30 GMT -5
Assisting people in hiding slavery. Bones. Mummified privates of ancient Pokemon. Entire living infected. Ezekiel’s catalogue of nefarious wares, which might not fit inside a normal mailbox, happened to be filled with blood and gore. While he himself avoided directly trading in certain things, his specialty was Pokemon, Ezekiel had no issue assisting in their collection. Like a spiderweb, spreading from various ancient families and slum dwellers, the black market in Remoor was vast. Pravus made many things illegal the trading of certain Pokemon flesh, just twenty years ago, had been merely frowned upon Now some hippy government had decided that thousands of years of culture were less important than the rights of animals.
Ezekiel actually, while he had been subjected to his father bitching about that change, had come to appreciate it. People paid a pretty penny for lost priveleges. Then again, that did not include what he was bartering in now. This cargo was far more dangerous than slabs of shaved Taurous meat; it was long, harder to hide, and rare. If these clients continued to piss him off, by being dishonest, impoverished, and incompetent, the serpent-like species would be another step closer to extinction.
Its scales still had moderate value on the market. Each one, when worn against the body, was said to help grow a person’s serenity. In truth, even if it wasn’t why the client wanted the elegant water-type, the armor would nearly make this worthwhile.
Now, though, the black market merchant had a child to deal with. This thing insisted on dressing like an idiot. Why was he watching? Digging in his pockets, averting his grey gaze, Ezekiel looked for a useful tool. It had to be quiet. It had to be useful. Turning towards the rooftop, and smirking, he felt his face relax. “Evil, boy?” He was not scum—well in the literal sense. The idea of such a thing as ‘evil’, such a childish and simplistic term, made his lips twitch with unshed chortles.
“I am just conducting business.” Turning his head slightly and staring into the next roof, where he had put a beast in case this meeting went bad, Ezekiel spoke again? “Correct, Thing?” You better do your fucking job—I’ll make someone buy a rug of your hide otherwise. The big beast had been rather recalcitrant to training; it kept insisting on displaying a mockery of human intelligence. Some whips, a thick collar with spikes driven into its inside, and negative reinforcement, had broken that protest.
Lifting his head, making out the humps of the deformed creature, Ezekiel decided to just scare the problems away. While the mauve-haired man would just claim that dead brats were hard to hide, Gesturing, and leaning against the wall, he watched as the splice emerged from his place behind a cracked billboard. Dry scales raked across the dusty old rooftop. Fresh graffiti left his dark skin streaked with various colors.
Venom dripped from his translucent canines; each was roughly the length of a human pinky. Thick and heavily-armored brows, over bright and glowing eyes, were narrowed. The paws scraped across
“Roar. Boo. Run.” The purple splice could feel the whips on his back; Pokemon only spoke when asked. Taking a few steps forward, staring at Jango with eyes that seemed rather bored, the large beast snarled.
The Rattata below, finding the ‘guard’ hilarious, just began to snicker. Then there was a squeak. While Ezekiel might allow the little rodent occasional leniency, as he could be useful at times, the dark-hearted man was not in the mood.
He might kick Jango too—if he had the chance.
(Please do not respond for at least 24 hours. :3 )
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Post by Zain Jinn Armando on Feb 18, 2014 9:52:30 GMT -5
Looking into the direction of the person who broke justice piece by piece, Jango saw that that guy didn't seem to have a problem at all with what he was doing. He just simply went on about how this is business, which would also give away he has been doing this for quite a while. Slave trading pokémon that is. How devilish. The whole world has fallen to ruins the moment mewtwo came to royally make things more difficult than they were. Merchants have gone out of control to get the money they oh so needed and nothing seemed to stop them. No task proved too extreme for them. Horrible things have been done with pokémon and would continue going on if Jango didn't do something to stop them.
''Business? Haha, that is funny...you know what you're doing and that isn't business. This is breaking the rights of Pokémon. This is utter trash that belongs in the garbage can. This is corrupt as it can be to the flesh and bones. If you call this business, then you know nothing of the danger...'' as Jango told the person he was facing.
Soon, some kind of figure emerged from the shadows. A terrifying beast that was with all kinds of torture that it got in his life....made by that awful person. It didn't even look like a pokémon anymore. It looked like something thrown into the depths of hell and while it came back, it suffered many scars throughout the ages. A beast called Thing by that person. A fitting name nonetheless.
The beast took a few steps in the direction of Jango and simply snarled at him, which made Jango a bit worried if he was going to attack. ''Your mind has been broken hasn't it poor guy? I'm afraid I can't do anything now to give you free will again.......'' and Jango turned his head at the slave trader again. ''You....I need a name, so I can properly know on who I'm dealing with.''
Without letting the slave trader know, Jango secretely grabbed a device behind his back and pushed a button on it that would let Luca know he needs help. ''By gods Luca, be here please''
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Post by Ezekiel " The Merchant" Harris on Feb 20, 2014 3:39:54 GMT -5
The man had started in this business at about ten years old. His father had showed him the basement. His little friend, a sheltered little Pidgey, had been used as an example. Pokemon were animals; they existed to be used for the betterment of mankind. Those that were thought of as anything else, even companions, were just humanity’s attempt to claim the moral high-ground. For nearly two decades now, working day and night, he had plied his trade. It was a stronger business. It was a nastier business. Unlike his father, now a gibbering mess downstairs, Ezekiel knew how to properly dirty hs hands. He had been taught to wash them as well.
He had broken justice? Ezekiel wouldn’t have stopped laughing for days. Had it ever been in one piece? It showed just what idiots knew about law and order. Justice was already a shattered and broken shadow. Police officers carved her to bits. His bribes to legal officials likely served as half their yearly budget. The maroon-haired man didn’t think he hurt morality, he just exploited it. The system allowed him to exist. They were just two parasites working together on the same host: the people. Any so-called hero, when strummed the right way, yielded music to the lithe man’s ears. That was how the world was.
Everone was just a hypocritical bastard. Even nuns, priests, and certainly politicans.
“Oh? Do you know how to define business? I am using the capitalist system to my advantage.” Ezekiel allowed that to sink in for a moment; he quickly continued. He really would just kill the brat—it’d be less annoying than letting him live—Ezekiel just needed him to hold still. “If I did not have customers, many customers, what point would there be in my business?” The metaphors just received a smile. “I assure you, boy , that I never litter.” He was far cleaner than some of the factories in the city. His items were disposed of in a clean, efficiency, and cost-effective manners. Animals had little issue with cannibalism, after all. “Danger of what? “ He paused. “What do you know about danger, huh?” This kid was probably just some rich ass from the suburbs; he just wanted to play hero . “I don’t think you understand danger--or the meaning of the word reckless..” Ezekiel hoped that Thing remembered their training. He would have to dig out the whips otherwise.
Thing drug himself forward. Thick pawpads moved across the rough rooftop. Dark eyes were now narrowed slits. The boss wanted an act, a party, and a threat. The more recent cuts and bruises, which were visible in mottled fur, had instilled the lab rat with an oddly adept sense of the theatrics. Teeth bared further. Acid dripped onto the rooftop. Muscles tense and steps slow, he hoped their crookedness would convince Ezekiel of his acting. The Nidoking hybrid had itte desire to hurt anyone. The crimson eyes stared at Jango; Thing hoped he recognized the warning. The boy needed to run. Idioti My mind is not broken, my spirit mayhap, but not my mind. Instead of responding, though his gaze give a flicker of empathy, the growling grew louder.
Ezekiel was growing impatient of this soapbox nonsense. He was tired of this incompetence. Thing could easily devour the brat; he was still too far fro mindless ornament. A name? What did a dead child need with a name? “You can call me, Merchant—it means ‘person who sells shit’.” He wouldn’t be surprised if the dark-haired brat had no idea what the word meant. “What dumbass name did you give yourself? Justice Man?”
Thing bunched his muscles as he prepared to strike. Why did it have to be a young person? The beast took a few steps in the direction of Jango and simply snarled at him, which made Jango a bit worried if he was going to attack. ''Your mind has been broken hasn't it poor guy? I'm afraid I can't do anything now to give you free will again.......'' and Jango turned his head at the slave trader again. ''You....I need a name, so I can properly know on who I'm dealing with.''
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