46 Posts
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36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on May 6, 2018 18:26:05 GMT -4
 What am I studying?
Weaponry. A beautiful day in his mansion, without a shadow of a doubt. Simply put, as he sat himself upon his expensive leather couch on one of the top rooms of his mansion, a large wonder of engineering, built into the side of one of the many Japanese Mountains, he sat inside his personal study room, staring out of his window to see nothing but the thriving, living nature, he almost felt disconnected from the world.
For even a trivial moment, he felt like he didn't have any responsibilities or obligation in life, other than relaxing and living the rest of his days with the money he had gathered from inheritance, selling companies and the steady income his company was getting.
Then reality would set in as he remembered he was studying a book on the mechanism of firearms and their history and was quickly reminded of it all. He had a duty to not only cleanse the world from all Quirkless trash, but to also forcefully prepare the Quirked to take over, even if he had to polish off the weaker and quirkless-sympathizers within them.
His left hand clenched his glass of cider, sipping on it while his right hand held his book, completely unsuspecting of someone coming right to his house, get through the all the alarms and attempt to kill him. He didn't even have that many enemies yet and his company wasn't exactly that much of a threat either.
It'd be really unlucky if that were to happen.@ tag - # # # - notes MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0 |
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Post by Veronica Blair on May 6, 2018 19:15:30 GMT -4
| | Veronica had expected a lot worse, honestly.
From what she knew of this man – and she knew a bit, for finding out all she could about her targets was vital to her profession – he was supposed to be some kind of robotics god. A pioneer in the engineering industry. Thus, she had anticipated machines patrolling his every corridor and turrets mounted on the ceilings. His alarms should not have been as easy to disable as they had been, surely? Perhaps he was not as much of a star engineer as people claimed. Or just not paranoid enough.
Well, he should have been, because someone wanted him dead. Someone willing to pay Veronica a lot of money to be their instrument of death. And she certainly did love money – as did this ‘Amadeus Asimov’ himself, if his home was any indicator. While he needed better security, everything else about the place radiated grandeur. She had to admit she felt a familiar longing tug at her heart. It reminded her of the home that had been so cruelly snatched away from her.
No use thinking about that now. She fought off those uncomfortable thoughts and focused again on the task at hand. The door to his study room was left slightly open, so she peered inside, spying him with her keen eyes spread out on a leather couch, his back to her. The room, like all the others, was grand. The large window directly opposite would be the ideal place to use her Quirk if it came to it.
It would not, however. She was on a mission, so she came equipped; in her hand she brandished a kunai throwing knife favoured by the ancient ninja. A fitting choice, she felt, considering the country she was currently in. She focused on the back of his head and threw it with all that she had.
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on May 7, 2018 17:48:36 GMT -4
"I'm getting quite done
with this assassin." Ah, indeed, it'd be a wonderful day for the up-and-coming businessman, a day of relaxation, reading his book on weaponry, specifically explosives. Nothing would break his mood, save for the fact that, from the corner of his eye, he could see the reflection of quite the looker of a woman, whose most defining characteristic was her comically long hair. The existence of her long hair was more than quickly justified when she pulled out a kunai from it, his eyes widening in surprise as he ducked as quickly as he could, gritting his teeth. Of course, a man working for the greater future would always be faced with opposition. Throwing away his book and his cup, he pushed the couch he was sitting on down, using it as cover. Assuming that she didn't have firearms on her, it'd serve for now.Guess who has firearms, though? He does. Silently, he slid his right hand into his suit, remembering one simple fact that he learned in his teens and even adulthood: a man worth his riches never goes unarmed. Pulling out his own High-Caliber Handgun, drawn and developed at Robotiks, with the major defining factor that, although minimal, made a huge difference, was the fact that, with a simple switch of a button, one could unload its entire clip, like an automatic weapon. It hasn't been commercialized yet for a reason. Once he had it out, he quickly peeked up from his seat, unloading two bullets from its clip of seven, as well as he could in her general direction. Not trying to hit her yet, since he had questions, though he might just hit her with the fact his aim still being untrained. Either way, it was time to question. "Who are you and who sent you!?" He asked, taking cover once again after shooting, his face showing nothing but a frown. He was the kind of man to stay calm in these kinds of situations, although he could still get justifiably furious.@ tag - # # # - notes MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0 |
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Post by Veronica Blair on May 9, 2018 13:06:29 GMT -4
| | Every offensive word Veronica knew exploded in her mind at once, including several in other languages. The bastard was faster than he looked. Then again, so was she. As he pushed his couch down for cover, she sprinted into the room and made for a medium-sized mirror she spied on the wall.
Bullets ricocheted behind her. Damn it, of course he was armed. She realised he must have spotted her in the huge window taking up the wall opposite him. Reflections being her undoing? Now that was ironic. She cursed herself. She had been at this game for a long time; twenty years in fact. There was no excuse for the sloppiness displayed just then. Perhaps it was because her mind was still very much stuck on her reunion with her daughter a few days prior. What a mess that had been.
No time to think about that now, however. She ripped the mirror off the wall and held it in his direction with both hands, her long, elegant fingers overlapping at the sides. She touched the glass and the glass around her fingertips rippled like water a stone had been cast into. From the middle of these ripples emerged a visually identical replica of his weapon. She let go of the mirror, which shattered on the floor, and caught the gun in the same swift motion. She immediately pulled down one of the study’s bookcases onto its side and dived behind it. Thankfully it was wide enough to obscure her.
As long as he did not figure out her Quirk only copied the outward appearance of an object, not its inner workings, she was golden. Well, maybe not golden, but this would buy her time at least. Time to get one of her smoke-bombs out of her hair and lob it.
“Who sent me isn’t important,” she answered. “Some corporate rival of yours, I would guess. I’m not paid to care why I do this!”
Which was true. All she cared about was the big, fat paycheque waiting for her at the end of her mission. It would certainly help to clear her mind of the last week’s uncomfortable revelations.
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
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Total
36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on May 13, 2018 18:01:55 GMT -4
"Join me in this cause
Or die." A quirked assassin, it seems! As he saw the mirror wobble around and create a gun just like his, then dropped just to break like normal, he ducked back down, checking the bullets it still had. Five. He had two clips he could load, so that'd make nineteen shots he could still fire before he had to resort to the absolute deep-end in a hidden Bayonet.
Thinking positive, however, he knew something. If she copied his gun as it was, she only had five bullets, so he had to fish them out. He peeked out of cover, firing three more bullets down at the place she was getting cover from, splinters flying off of the bookcase as he shot it. It didn't matter if he got the books, he had them all digitalized just in case something like this happened.
Though, a corporate rival to a company who hadn't even begun formerly selling was quite petty, a clear mark of someone paranoid. Someone paranoid who would be paying good money for that. "I'd say it matters quite a lot! I am.. willing to pay you more than what he ever offered!" He had a strategy to defeat her if she said no and had a strategy to win if she said yes. He was prepared for both outcomes, though he wished for a yes: having a trained assassin on his side right off the bat would be quite good, specially for "persuading" targets. Either with a glass of wine or a bullet down their throats. @ tag - # # # - notes MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0 |
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Post by Veronica Blair on May 18, 2018 11:27:21 GMT -4
| | Veronica scoffed, loud and dismissive. “If I had a dollar for the number of times I’d heard that one, I wouldn’t need to do this!”
She may have just given away her American origin with her use of ‘dollar’, but that was the last thing that mattered. She plucked a palm-sized spherical ball from the inside of her hair; a smoke-bomb. The smoke it produced was harmless, but made for an excellent cloak.
She hurled the ball over the bookcase into the room. The moment it landed it began leaking thick white smoke that rapidly billowed out to blanket the entire study. Veronica wasted no time charging out from behind the bookcase to where she had last glimpsed Amadeus.
She reached out through the smoke towards his silhouette and pressed her fake gun against the side of his head. She knew it could not actually fire, but she prayed her would not have figured that out yet.
“Drop your weapon,” she ordered.
As much as she doubted his honesty and as hard as she had scoffed, she was curious. The wealth on display in his home called to her despite her better judgement. It was far greater than the wealth of all those who had previously tried the ‘I’ll pay you more’ excuse. And he had only just begun his business. How much more would he acquire if he were allowed to continue?
“Cough up some proof of exactly how much you’d pay me,” she said. “Now. And maybe then I’ll reconsider.”
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
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36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on May 24, 2018 17:48:19 GMT -4
"You see, young man,
I love goooooold." Ah, he had been caught in the act. If only she hadn't created a weapon just like his, he might even consider trying to tough it out by forcing her to point it somewhere else. The gun was essentially a hand-cannon, he knew that a bullet anywhere would kill him, specially since he was not in his prime anymore. He chuckled a bit, not even scared. Why would he be? She just wanted him to show her his wealth. Most of it was digitalized, though he had saved quite a bit in, well, physical form. He put away his gun in his suit, not even dropping it down while he raised his hands behind his head.Without much of a word, he simply walked with her towards a book case, pressing his foot into a book at the bottom row, third book from the right. The book case sunk down into the hollow wall from the floor below, just to reveal a decently large safe. "Excuse me." He said, lowering his right hand and clicking in what was, actually, a 34-numbers long password, knowing fully well it might make him seem paranoid. He called it careful. Soon, the door opened itself, to show her gold, jewels, things he had stolen or bought in his young days. It was money he couldn't use yet, since nearly none of it was legal and, at that point, he had forgotten which was legal and which was illegal. So, he was saving it to use it as a kickstarter to his "Dark Branch".
With a cocky grin, he lowered his arms and casually moved, not worrying about her gun anymore. He knew fully well she wouldn't be as insane to kill him without, at least, making sure he didn't have more wealth hidden somewhere. Should she try to squeeze it out of him, though, he would be quite difficult to persuade. "I hope this is enough for you, madam." He said snarkily, making sure his suit was well settled, then fixing his hair from the battle.@ tag - # # # - notes MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0 |
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Post by Veronica Blair on May 27, 2018 13:05:41 GMT -4
| | “That’s not dropping,” Veronica huffed as he merely stuffed the gun back in his jacket. It was all too easy for him to pull it out again if she were not to react fast enough. And the bastard did not even seem the slightest bit concerned he had what was for all he knew a loaded gun to his back. The arrogance of this guy grated on her every last nerve. Then again, she supposed if she lived in a mansion like this, she would act much the same.
She allowed him to lead her over to his safe, conscious with every passing second that her copy of his weapon was on borrowed time. What the hell was she doing? She needed to stop letting her curiosity get the better of her and stop playing around. It would be simple enough now to pull another kunai out of her hair and plunge it into his back. She would have to be fast, she knew, before he had chance to grab his gun again.
Her other hand was just beginning to move when the safe swung open and her thoughts ceased. Her jaw dropped all the way down to her ankles. There was more money in there than she had seen in a long, long time. More than she had at home. More than what had sent her here. And this was only a fraction of the total amount of wealth he had?
“That’s – something,” she at last managed to say. She really resented giving him the satisfaction of seeing her gobsmacked, but there was so much there she could not stop herself. She did her best to regain her composure and scowled. “Alright, change of plan. You give me all of that there and I’ll be on my way like nothing ever happened. Sounds good? ‘Cause sadly for you I’m smart enough to know you’re just gonna shoot me as soon as I drop my guard.”
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
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Total
36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on May 31, 2018 15:17:59 GMT -4
Ah, how he loved to see the faces of the poor people simply twist, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of a fraction of his wealth. For such a good looking woman too, it felt even better. A boost to his already strong self-confidence. With a smirk, he heard her demands, then her paranoid justification of why she wanted just that and be on her way. She thought he'd be as stupid a businessman as to shoot someone useful who's clearly insterested in wealth. He slowly shook his head left and right, almost pitying her short-sightness.
"You're adorable, see? It'd be offensively stupid to shoot someone who's useful to me. No.." With a smile, he stepped forward a bit towards her, looking down at her, thanks to his advantage in height, chuckling a little. "I want you to work for me as my personal.. let's stay cleaner. You'll be paid the equivalent of two hundred thousand dollars every month. That's two million and four hundred thousand dollars every year. Not counting with bonuses depending on the calibre of the targets I assign to you. What do you say?"
He asked her with utmost confidence in that he'd already win. He had spoken confidently, an offer that was final from the absolute start. Amadeus even gave her a good time to fake think about it, as lower people usually would. He admired her skills and her composure, but she screamed lower-class when it came to her reaction to money and lack of experience with business. Eventually, he raised his right hand towards her, having it open just for her. He was offering a handshake to her, to seal their contract for now. He wouldn't do paperwork, specially since who he was hiring was kinda illegal. "Shouldn't leave me hanging." He remarked, chuckling a bit while waiting her to, as predicted, to take his hand and shake it.
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Post by Veronica Blair on Jun 1, 2018 11:18:22 GMT -4
| | Veronica was silent. She was having difficulty tearing her eyes away from the safe, but she managed to as Amadeus stepped towards her, to be met with his smug grin. God, the nerve of this arrogant bastard. He had completely turned the tables on her and he knew it. He knew that she knew it.
She listened to his words. She watched him extend a hand. She wanted to slap him just a little for that last cocky remark, but it barely mattered to her in the face of what he offered.
No. He’s going to kill me as soon as I drop my guard. I can’t be that stupid.
Still, another glance at the fat pile of cash in his safe and she felt herself begin to salivate. She was stupid if she turned down a payment on that level and beyond. All the things she could buy with the money he offered played through her mind: a yacht, new furniture, dresses galore, more shoes than she would be able to keep track of…
It was too much to reject, simply too much. Her greed overrode her self-preservation instincts and against all better judgement she did it – she took his hand.
Not a moment later cracks spread across the copied gun in her other hand. It shattered as though it too were made of glass, the shards fading out of existence the instant they appeared.
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
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36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on Jun 1, 2018 11:34:23 GMT -4
Another thing he noticed was how badly she hid her own emotions when it came to greed, it seemed. He could easily see it whenever she was imagining herself with something she wanted and, knowing that the salary he offered was quite promising, he couldn't even blame her for doing so. Instead, he just shook her hand firmly, his smile changing to a genuinely happy one, be it for the most heinous of reasons, be it for the reason of adquiring his first partner in crime. Whatever it was, it made him happy.
Then, he noticed the gun crumble away, into simple shards that held nothing inside. A fake, a dupe. A mirror image, one would say. Aptly so, since it had come out of a mirror. He had guessed it was slightly different from the real thing, seeing how she handled it so easily, specially since the real gun is actually heavy for a handgun. He did not expect it to be completely fake, though. He didn't comment on how he was actually fooled, though he looked as it dissapeared and chuckled.
"It greatly pleases me to have you as a businesspartner. As a sign of partnership.." He reached into his suit, his right hand gripping for his Robotik Handgun 1 or, for short, RH1 and pointed it at her for just a split second before letting the gun fall on his index finger, the butt of the gun coming to the top, so she could grip it. "A present, in case your throwing weapons don't quite cut it." He said, waiting for her to take it, not even paying any mind to how she probably would feel slightly uncomfortable with that heavy thing. She'd get used to it and, in time, understand how the gun paid ten-fold in its weight with firepower. Instead, he slowly made his way back to his sofa, kicking it back up and sitting down, sighing. "Come. Introduce yourself properly this time." He said, while laying his head back into the couch, pondering for a moment. He couldn't really cash in all that gold and he knew how much she liked it. To get her loyalty firm on him, he smiled. "By the way: consider all that gold yours. Call it.. a starter pack of sorts." He said, slowly reaching for the cup that had miraculously not fallen off of the small table, sipping on the rest of his drink.
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Post by Veronica Blair on Jun 2, 2018 12:38:47 GMT -4
| | The moment he reached into his jacket was the moment Veronica regretted everything. Stupid, braindead moron, her mind furiously scolded her as her hands flew into her hair to seize something, anything to save her. Not fast enough. The gun was out, aimed right at her –
And then he held it out for her to take. Veronica glowered for just a moment and was still scowling as she took hold of it. The bastard was having far too much fun, especially for someone who had just been held at gunpoint by what had only just revealed itself to have been a fake. Perhaps he had done that to teach her a quick lesson about – she did not know, but something. All it did was make her want to slap him even more.
She observed her new weapon for a moment. The gun was a lot heavier than the fake one and she doubted she could hide it in her hair with all her other tools. She would have to think this one out a bit. But another time.
Her scowl relaxed slightly when he asked her name, though not entirely.
“Madame Mirage,” she answered. “Professional assassin. So professional, in fact, I even have my own business cards.” She reached into a pocket on the back of her dress and flicked a small, square white card towards him. “Here. These are my contact details. And thanks for the gun.”
All her thoughts crashed when he said she could take the gold in the safe. She could have fainted. She almost did.
“R-really?” She could not keep the enthusiasm out of her voice no matter how hard she tried. “I didn’t bring anything to carry it in, though…” Not that this was going to stop her from leaving with it.
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on Jun 2, 2018 16:35:29 GMT -4
That there. The complaint about not knowing how to carry it back was used as quite the connector to the next part of her job. Taking her businesscard and looking at it for a second, he put it in his front suit pocket, looking back at her and lowering his head for a second, waving it left and right slowly to give her a "no". He raised it again, his smile returning to him. "This is a full-time job. Illegal, specially secretive and will need constant re-armament. To make it convenient to everyone, I'll have you move in to one of the several rooms here." He informed her with absolute confidence in that she'd never reject it. From how she reacted to his wealth, to the gold, to the luxuries: he was sure that, whatever may be the place that she called "home", it wouldn't be remotely as luxurious as his mansion. To him, this offer wasn't even a constricting work requirement: it was just another incentive for her to work for him.
"Anyway. Place your weapons onto the table. I wish to have a look at them, since I refuse to have my assassin work with sub-par weaponry." He said, just as he stretched his back a bit on the couch, checking his phone for something that only he'd know or care about. He even stared at it for a second, only to put his phone down without any interest. Figuring he should continue to give her the guidelines of his work, he called for one of the Maids working there, asking her to take his cup and refill it with his favorite Cider.
"Some more things I should mention. If you need it, I can have some of my workers help you out with moving your belongings here, along with anything else you might need. Another thing: you work exclusively for me, now." That was the first thing to mention, since it connected to the first guideline he gave her. He wasn't exactly sure if she would actually be open to the other rule for his job. Though, with the amazing salary he was giving her, the loss in profits for her would probably be a drop in the bucket. "Last thing. You are not allowed to work for any other people for as long as you're working for me. I cannot risk having you do a job that may mess with my plans. I hope this is not an inconvenience to you. Unless you have any questions, our meeting is over." He said, his face having naturally shifted to his usual stoic, almost emotionless "businessman" face. His hands reached for the cup that the Maid, whom had just returned, gave him, sipping on it. Once done, he put the cup down, opened his book again and started reading, assuming that Veronica would be very much cleared of any doubts. Though his ears were still open, just in case.
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Post by Veronica Blair on Jun 3, 2018 12:21:37 GMT -4
| | Veronica listened to his words carefully. His offer had her trembling on the inside, giddy at the notion of getting to live in such a luxurious manor. It was a palace compared to her old Tokyo apartment.
Then he told her to lay her weapons out. That brought her thoughts to as close to a halt as they could get when her mind was full of money. It sounded like a trap, but he had had a hundred opportunities to kill her already. He really had to be serious, did he not?
“Fine,” she said after a moment.
She approached the table and rummaged around in her vast hair. She pulled out two more throwing knives in addition to the one she had lobbed at him earlier, a pair of lockpicks, three more smoke-bombs and a hunting knife. Getting all of it to stay in her hair while she ran and jumped around had indeed been a pain when she had started working again with her current look.
“This is what I’ve got. This and the gun you’ve just given me, of course.”
His next words gave her pause. Work exclusively for him? Really? She had spent so long as a freelancer she had forgotten what it was like to have a fixed employer. She was unsure how to feel about it. Having her freedom restricted was not something she was used to. Then again, could anyone else compare to the wealth he offered her? It was more than what had sent her to him, after all.
“Alright.” She gave him a light shrug. “As long as you make good on the money you’ve promised, I’ll do whatever.”
She cared about little else. His motivations for doing what he did meant absolutely nothing to her. All that mattered was the money.
And he did not have to know about the odd small job on the side here and there, did he? Just in case she felt like some extra spending…
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LAIKA OF THQ
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46 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
36 Years
Male
Bandit-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Amadeus Asimov on Jun 3, 2018 13:14:22 GMT -4
He felt like she was not very keen on completely obeying his will on not working for anyone else, though that wouldn't be too worrysome for him. He always had a deal to discipline employees should they get disobedient and interfere with his plans in ways he doesn't see as desirable. Without a worry, he looked over her weapons, lamenting the poor woman. The absolute state of her life, where she had to work with such a small amount of sub-par equipment. Hell, the worst of them all was the hunting knife. Dull, old and not made to kill humans. He picked it up, tapping it against the table once or twice. Casually, he opened the window he was facing and chucked it away, his face stained with disdain.
"Hmph. You almost made me feel bad for you, having to do assassination jobs with such a horrible knife. The rest you can keep. Check with me in a hour for your knew knife." He said, just as he took one of the smoke bombs and throwing knives. He'd reverse engineer them, specifically the smoke bomb, just in case it used mechanisms alien to him: he would make sure that no knowledge could possibly escape him, for it was much too valuable for him. For that reason, he wished to study them alone.
He got up from his spot, tilting his head to the left as he cracked his ever stiff neck, his left hand holding the smoke bomb and the throwing knife while he slowly made his way over to a door, hidden behind a whole row of book-cases. Easy to miss, though not exactly secret. He made sure that she'd be looking, so he didn't exactly move around with that much of a worry. "I'll be in this room, so you'll know where to find me." He told her beforehand, then opening the door as he slowly made his way inside. A slightly messy room that almost permanently smelled like steel. Slipping off of his suit, he put it up on the door, while changing into a simple shirt and an apron, to not dirty himself too much. Within the minute, he was now dismantling the smoke bomb, taking several notes.
A hour later, assuming that Veronica did as told and arrived by his room as he told her to, he would present her with three new things. Improved smoke bombs, simply in the fact that they were compact and easier to hide, which meant she could easily carry more than before. Next, two knives. The first one was a small, easily concealable flip knife that she could pull out for situations where she may need to be quick and stealthy, or a surprise attack to turn the tables on a loosing fight. The second knife was a Tri-Edge Dagger designed by himself, the only real difference being that, aside from the tip which was as sharp as could be, the rest of the blade was serrated. Specially designed to shred meat, while creating a wound that would only be closed surgically. "Here. Should you need anything like special armament, resupplies on throwing knives and smoke bombs or sharpening your knives, do not be afraid to mention it. Dismissed." He finished their meeting for the day, feeling proud of himself over his design. Simple, though any improvement was always welcome. It was one of the only things that brought him innocent joy, the joy of learning something by yourself.
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