NPCs by Harlem

Scene Title Retribution
Synopsis A Humanis First sympathizer meets an angry young man…
Date Oct 10, 2009

The man's name is Robert Shayman; he's a representative for the Local 1000 of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees - in other words, the most powerful worker's Union in New York City. He's also been publically quoted as being anti-Evolved, stating reasons to be the danger to jobs being replaced with 'freaks with powers' who can do work that 'honest Americans' should be doing.

It's made him popular in some circles. Not so much in others.

This evening he's walking out the back of an office building, as usual at about this hour, shrugging on a jacket against the unseasonal cold on his way to the orange Hummer parked there at the edge of the lot. As usual, he stayed later than most of the other workers, only a handful of vehicles still parked there.

Ash is in his tactical assasin type outfit once again, seems to be wearing this thing alot as of late. He's standing in the shadows of a near by building, watching and waiting for the man that he's been tracking for the past few days. He's fingering the tranq gun that Adam gave to him, it's only got 3 darts left in it, and one of them is for this guy right here. He isn't going to kill the man, no, that would be far to easy, and wouldn't get the proper message across.
As he approaches his vehicle Ash reaches down to his side and his hand slips his camo smeared combat knife out of it's sheath, holding it at the ready. He looks down at the ground for a moment, pulling in a slow relaxing breath, then looks up and takes aim, waiting for the guarenteed shot.

Robert's balding; a pathetic comb-over not managing to hide much of that spot at the crown of his head, though he's been trying Rogaine recently. No success, alas, just yet. The puffy jacket's settled over him as he crosses over to the hummer, drawing out the keys in his pocket and depressing a button. Lights flash on the vehicle, locks disengaging before he steps to the door, pausing there to check his pockets and make certain he has everything.

The perfect target.

Ash doesn't aim for the body as most would, especially with the man wearing a puffy coat like that. No, Ash's aim shifts a little bit lower than the waist. he pulls the trigger and a soft pfft sounds in the air, very soft, as the dart leaves the barrel. The gun is tucked away in the webbing and he's moving then, running full tilt across the parking lot in case the shot missed or doesn't get him down quick enough. And yes, Ash shot him in the butt, or tried to anyway. His padded tabi make little to no sound on the concrete of the parking lot, and his well secured gear makes no sound at all, so he may very well go unnonticed, or he may not, but either way he's dashing across the parking lot for the man.

The sound's a barely audible zip of air, then a soft thump of needle puncturing fabric and flesh. "What the…" A twist around, Robert hand groping back for the needle, finding his fingers unable to grasp for some reason. "Wh… tranq…?" Eyes roll up into his head, and he grabs for the door, not quite reaching it before he goes down ina heap.
Ash skids to a stop at the big vehicle. He leans down into the darkness cast by the large thing. His hands reach out and he plucks the dart from the man's rear end. he tucks it into his pant's pocket so it will be found at a later date, not readily snatched up by someone wishing to cover up that it's a Company issue tranq dart, and probably the same one's HomeSec uses, though Ash doesn't know that for sure. Ash doesn't waste any time with what he's going to do. he takes his knife and cut's the man's shirt open, pulling it out and looking him over. It'll do just fine. Ash then reaches up, opening the door to the vehicle before pulling it open. The man is easily lifted, scooped up and deposited in the front seat. This way there's no blood all over Ash's clothed from moving him after he's done.
He reclines the man's chair back to laying down, and then he gets to work. First a little slice is put into the skin over the man's throat, just a symbol of what could have been done, just nicking the skin really. Then he goes tow ork on the man himself. With quick incisions of the tip of the knife he cuts letters into the man's flesh, slicing into his chest the word 'RETRIBUTION' in big capital letters. The knife is cleaned on the man's clothing, then wrapped up in a cloth that will be thrown away before it's tucked back into his gear for thourough cleaning later.

There's a muffled grunt from the unconscious man as he's hauled up from the pavement and slung onto the front seat of the truck in a tumble of limbs, his heavy arm draping down into the wheel well, face rolling to one side. The jacket falls open, shirt sliced easily with a fall of a few buttons away to bare his torso— muscle, but also a bit of a beer belly, pork-pale skin darkened with the hair that's emigrated down from his crown.

Blood wells up in the wake of the blade's scratches, leaking in fat, swollen drops down his body, the word smeared but recognizable enough— although he may need some cleaning to figure the letters out, after he's been laying here soon enough. His heartbeat's slowed by the tranq, fortunately, so the blood isn't spilling too quickly.
Ash goes over to the shadow of the building he was hiding in. He comes back with bleach. The bleach is dumped out on the ground, the floor of the vehicle and such, to cover up any possible trace of Ash that may be left behind. Then the knife is pulled out from where it was with the cloth and the cloth is tossed on the ground. The knife is doused in bleach, then cleaned thouroughly with the cloth before the cloth has the remainder of the bleach dumped on it. The jug of bleach will bee tossed into a dumpster on the way home. He pulls a note out of his pocket, a simple piece of untraceable printing paper, and it's left in the passenger seat of the hummer.
The note reads. "You bastards wanted something to fear. Well here I am. I'm bringing this to you. YOu want to oppress the evolved for being what they are when they can't help it? Well then this is what will come to you. Leave good honest people alone. You want someone to hate, you hate me. I'm coming for you all. Everyone that oppresses, imprisons, harasses the evolved when they can't help what they are, you better fear the night that hides me."

The note rests there silently upon the seat as blood flows dark in the vehicle. By the time others get out of work, the man is long gone - or watching from a safe distance - and eventually there's just the night guard locking up for the night. The remaining hummer's noticed, and the uniformed fellow trots across the lot flashlight in hand, peering into it in a beam of light—

— and then a shout of panic, and horror. There's fear tonight, that's for certain, in this parking lot at least. Soon the police will arrive to investigate the scene, and the media not long after them, lights brilliant in the night and voices raised in confusion and anger as the man is carted off to the hospital and the reporters try and find out what happened before all the evidence is noted and cleaned up.

If nothing else, he'll probably make the news.

Ash watches though, watches it all. He's dressed in black, so he watches safely from a nearby rooftop, watching the panic ensue. He feels no remorse for what he's done. This is a bigot, that hates people for things they can't help. He deserved to have that slice in his throat go all the way through. But messages need to be sent. The Evolved need a voice of Justice. And he will make sure his voice is heard. He watches the man get carted off to the hospital before he slinks away into the night.

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