Predators and Prey

August 08, 2016:

Ripclaw and Zakura strength their legs a bit.

Characters

NPCs: Los Carnales (NY gang)

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Its a day like no other; a day in which a lady just needs to let her hair down and leave the pistols at home. Granted, tooth and nail would do the job just fine, though there was nothing like the cold press of steel melding in with the flesh that gets the body pumping. Or going. Or coming. Take it how it is.

She was there somewhere, easily smelled by the jasmine and brown sugar soap that she finds kindly to her own nose (possibly not others), and the slight jingle of chains and charms that she finds adorable that were fixed to the end of her dual katanas in a need of girlish things and decor. The occasional light casts the reflectors in her predatory gaze to shine, creating a slight ominous hue, whilst fingers slowly edge out the front of her cloth top with claws that sink from the nails. Finally, that hand strikes up, fingers clicking against the hearing aid as she approaches, then stops with a slight squat in preparations as she keeps her gaze forward.

"Rapists. Child harmers. Murderers or vagrants. What is our menu." Her dull tone blurts out.
"I am no psychic and this is your hunt." Ripclaw declares. There is an overabundance of tagging here, recent, criminal activity in the form of gangs, probably not something Nadia has paid much attention too. Robert took notice to this last week while in this spot when several Los Carnales decided they wanted to rough up the Doll Collectors Event that took place. He was there because of a friend, not because he plays with dolls.
"Though, to make it easy on you… there are thugs here. Punks and wannabes who are from out of town, probably had to relocated and they are violently trying to make a name for themselves. We can start with them." From where he stands and past the trees in a secluded parking space for the recreation grounds one can see the gathering of cars, hear the music and see the bodies. Not quite a party, they are just hanging out under a canopy of park shrubs. Territorial display perhaps, urban predator habits.
"That is one option unless you care to be more selective. I normally prowl alone which involves a lot of just roaming and going off instinct." Yes, Ripclaw when not working with X-Force or playing shaman for Primal Forces plays the vigilante game by himself.

"Mmh." She mutters, more like rumbles, her fingers tip tapping against the ground as she slowly stands to her full height. It wasn't by much, even her back begins to snap as her neck slightly rolls and pops along with shoulders rolling in a slight circle in preparation. It's been a very, very long while since she's been on the hunt. On her end, there was no need for her to go outside than to lounge. But then again, workouts were kept up to prevent the belly to form a little pouch of fat. Thank god this wasn't the case.

"Let's be heroes then."

Options? At this point, the world was her oyster and she was about to swim in its depths. "Selection is not my bag." She quietly admits as she begins to stalk off, her hands lowering against her side, one pressed and held against the hilt of her katana as she walks more pronounced. At least moreso that need be. The sway of the hips were like a slither of a snake, approaching the gathering few from afar with a glint in her eye and a smile.
[OOC] Nadia Mercer says, "this broad keeps talking to me"
"By all means, help yourself. The two of us going in is just unfair." A tip of his head and Ripclaw pops his neck, he would love to join this little fray but he is correct, it would be no challenge for two SHOC. One alone will hardly break a sweat.
Arms enfolding across his chest Ripclaw leans in to the tree once more to just watch Nadia stalk off.
Daddy Yankee? Why yes. Yes it is playing. Los Carnales are being rather stereotypical but what can you expect, what is hip is what is hip. It is a young kid walking up and extending his hand to a man in baggy red pants with suspenders that looks most out of place, a drug exchange, very obvious one too. No remose or care in the goatee sporting man's features as the kid dashes off, dope in hand. Counting each bill the Los Canales gangbanger slides it away.
"Hey, where you think you're going? Da fuck Kill Bill. This isn't medieval times." Not the dealer talking, this guy was leaning against the hood of an El Camino. Muscles from ankles to the top of his neck, veins, powerful, stocky, lots of steroids and beef right there. Tattoos only make him look more menacing. He apparently doesn't feel the need to show off the gun he has tucked in his pants either. Maybe his biceps alone will scare Nadia off or in to being one of their party favors.

They were like lines made of color. The scent of those who lingered nearby, the scent that wafts from hand to hand which strikes off in a trail that follows the young one buying drugs. She will find that one later. Though whatever plans she has for that one? Possibly won't be made too public to those who live in Lot 80, if at all. She had her own little private time, just like anyone else. Spent.. doing.. weird.. things. Of course.

Arm's calling towards her has her head snapping a little in his direction, the smile fading from her lips and eyebrows lifting, soon lowering which causes her lips to curl into a frown as she looks down towards her katana and then towards the man. With a flick of her finger she dislodges it from her belt, the other following suit, and a glance back towards the tree where Ripclaw stands has her drawing forward and back with a hurl of her weaponry. If he was smart, he'd probably not move and just leave it where it lay. She'll come get it later.

Soon, her hand reaches up to twist and turn her hearing aid off. Their faces were funnier when it was silent, and she liked it better that way. And to mark this occasion? She draws in with a crackle of a noise from her lips, then hurls a glob of spit upon the ground at his feet. If that wasn't a clear fuck you, she'll go for the face next.

(to be continued)

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