IN COLLABORATION WITH SuperHuman200...
Read and review and yadda yadda...
Pleasantries done?
Good
*CLEARS THROAT*
LET'S GET STARTED...
I OWN NOTHING IN THIS FANFICTION EXCEPT FOR MY OC. I DON'T OWN MUCH OF ANYTHING WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT...
We begin where the coordinates said to head over to for on a certain Maserati MC GranTurismo Stradale. There, we meet yet another shadowy figure standing under a street light by the roadside wearing hooded robes.
Staring off at a dilapidating building and his back to the road, the silhouette wore a very similar hooded robe to VIII.
Gold kanji rode up and down the black shiny cloth that hid the man's figure, one that flowed fluidly in the heavy winds. Thanks to the sheer intensity of the howling gusts, they threatened to uproot a few surrounding dying trees.
Large grey clouds hung overhead, turning the once starry sky to a pitch-black and bringing the threat of heavy rainfall along with the darkness. Making the already suspicious meeting place all the eerier. Not to mention the clapping and booming of thunder and lightning dancing across the night's sky.
And the half-finished cigarette in his shadow shrouded mouth can easily mark him as dangerous.
The man was surrounded by decay. Decay in the form of worn-down buildings, beat-up roads, and the only remaining reliable source of light being the street lamp he currently stood under. But even that was threatened by the decay as it flickered ever so subtly.
It showed just how contrastingly old and abandoned the place was compared to the entirety of Planeptune's futuristic asthetic. Just like the currently smoking man himself, the place was rugged, to say the least.
His hood covered his face from his nose up in darkness. But would do nothing to cover his full beard and the singular vertical semblance of a scar on his left cheek Those were almost on full display if the male didn't look down.
"They'll be here soon, I can feel it..." The raspy and aged voice of the figure filled the air for the first time since he'd arrived not too long ago. Sounding as though he was in desperate need of a cough drop.
Or Nyquil. Either one works.
"In fact, I can bet money on them arriving in the next three seconds," The man mused to himself before finishing his cigarette, throwing it on the ground, and stomping it out.
Unknown to the nicotine addict, there was another figure nearby. In fact, he was only a few feet away, directly behind him and wearing a familiar red cloak we've started to become accustomed to.
With a big tally mark saying IIII. across his back.
"'Fraid you're two seconds too late for that one, bud," The new figure spoke up with a younger western sounding accent from behind the man.
No, not just western. American. 1880's American to be exact.
With an unsurprised spin around, the older man calmly spotted and had already recognized the owner of such a unique audible fingerprint.
"IV., where's the other string bean?" He apathetically named the new obscured face as he asked for the other that was supposed to show up alongside him.
With a sideways head tilt and jaw scratch, the Wanderer showed just how hard he was trying to remember what happened before he'd arrived. However brief said the sign was before eventually fitting the gap in his memory.
"VI.? he's-"
The God, who like the omnipresent being he named himself after, showed up exactly when his character was dared to be mentioned. Rudely cutting off his comrade before he could've ended his sentence.
What was extra rude was the fact that he seemingly waited until the other male began speaking to jump in.
"Aight so there's no secure parking anywhere around here so I'll just park the whip here." The youngest sounding of the three spake from within the glossy metal box known as his car. "Anyway, let's hurry this up. He then said hopping out of said box.
The old man just watched in silence as VI. exited and locked his car. With folded arms, he would take a close and calculative look at the blue
GranTurismo, then its owner, then the owner's friend. Who both returned the calculative glare.
All three collectively spent a second or two to read each other without a sound. Before someone spoke up and distorted the silence
"So, Informer, where are we heading to this time?" It was VI., who casually asked with a quick outward stretch of his arms.
"We're heading to your mom's place." The eldest stated neutrally and thee Wanderer couldn't have helped but to snicker a little, "Anyway, you two have to go assassinate Shay Patrick Cormac." The now named Informer added seriously.
After finishing what was said, the man would then pull a new cigarette from his pocket, place it in his mouth and snap his fingers at the end of it. Lighting it. He then drew a long breath from the now lit nicotine stick. Much to the annoyance of the younger duo before him.
"Lemme guess, crime lord?" IV. asked with a cocked brow no-one could see but everyone heard.
To which the Informer nodded.
"You'd expect a world like this to be crime-free. But nooooo." VI. complained about the pandemic of lawlessness with a semi-serious tone, "There just has to be that one guy. That one guy who, no matter how many times he dies, always comes back. This time under a new name and better make up!"
IV. and the Informer both nodded at VI., agreeing with the sentiment of the previous statement. The Informer would even blow out another massive plume of tobacco with a pained sigh.
"Aye, lads," The oldest breathed out, "For every one of those walking corpses at the top. There are at least ten waiting to take his place in a heartbeat."
"All the more reason to chop the snake's head clean off." IV. said with a determined gleam through the shadows over his face, slamming a fist into his palm hard enough to form a small gust of wind powerful enough to temporarily discharge the still roaring winds.
"As well as dissect and burn the body one time!" VI. inserted. Earning another dragged sigh from the Informer.
"You know the repercussions for doing that are too unpredictable, boy," He reprimanded instantly, "And what is predictable goes against such drastic actions."
The sudden cliff drop of Shares due to the population decrease might prove a greater rot within the fruits of dismantling and destroying the crime syndicates and their members through giving them a swift end. This was something more than just the three men in the shady streets knew all too well. Especially seeing as the higher-ups hadn't ordered such.
"Fair point," IV. shrugged. Knowing VI.'s little speech meant nothing in the long run.
"Now," The informer said in a somehow more serious tone than before, "Back to your mission: Your only target is Shay, everyone else must be spared at any cost. Only kill others if left with no other choice. Check your trunk when you arrive at the newly updated GPS for your specialized tools. Now go."
Before the two youngins could react, a beep sounded from behind them. A beep the God knew a little too well seeing as it was the sound of his car unlocking. Which made them both turn around just in time to see both of VI.'s car doors open on its own.
"Fine, we'll get going boss..." VI. muttered, "We get the point. "
The younger pair quickly began feeding themselves into the ride they came in. With the Wanderer taking a pause to ask a question. Or rather inquire on some missing information.
"I'm assuming the floorplan of the fortress we're raiding is in the trunk too?" He asked.
"Does a map count as a tool?" The Informer answered sarcastically as he turned his back to the men and huffed another plume into existence.
"Let's go." The Wanderer deadpanned shortly before the God punched it on the gas.
*SCREEEEEEECH!*
*VROOOM*
The expensive vehicle dragged like a race from how hard its owner slammed on the gas(, gas, gas!) as it then went off to disappear into the horizon and darkness.
And like that, the Wanderer and the God were gone. Leaving the Informer back to his thoughts and slow suicide sticks with an audible screech of car tires and kicked up smoke from the burnt rubber.
"They better not fuck this up..." He groaned to nobody in particular, deciding to spend his last few seconds of screen time finishing his cigarette as the screen faded to black.
*NYOOOOMMMMMM!*
Our vision returns from the void to show VI.'s sports car zooming down a narrow mountain road. And our ears fade in to hear Dave Rogers's Deja Vu at the midway mark.
A fitting song to listen to considering his current task and how he was accomplishing it.
VI. was effortlessly shifting through gears with a focussed expression while loud Japanese electro-pop music drowned out the roaring of his turbo-charged engine.
The vehicle would wind up and down the dangerous and unforgiving twists and wrenches of the mountainside. And without dropping much in the outrageous speed the driver was barreling at either. Sometimes there were instances where the owner sped up on a corner.
All while IV. just vibed in the passenger seat and thumped to the song that played throughout. He was too accustomed to this kind of behaviour from and knew more than to question his fellow man.
*VrrRRROOOoooomm!*
"We're nearly there..." The God smiled while looking around.
It was after around a minute or so of this (probably) wreckless style of driving's screen time, that the God behind the wheel finally shows signs of slowing down. As well as speaking since the two had gotten into the vehicle.
"Seems so," The passenger nodded in agreement, holding an orb that he totally had the entire time in his hand.
It was displaying white holographic text in a language irrecognizable to most denizens of Gameindutri. Luckily, IV. and VI. weren't ordinary denizens as you have already figured out by now.
For most, it was gibberish written on that great background. But to IV., it was instructions as well as a map. Instructions based on information gathered by an inside source who'd weaselled their way up to one of the higher ranks. Or so the Informer wrote before leaving his signature in the unreadable text.
It also said stuff about how the whole ordeal ran similar to that of a cartel and the like. But details on just how similar were a little shaky in terms of evidence and mostly irrelevant. Hence was left out.
Alright!
I'm done.
Anyways. Ciao.
Oh and don't forget to leave a review. This fanfic's quality depends on it.
