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originally posted in:The New Dojo
10/31/2016 1:58:47 AM
1
You going to actually talk to me or sit around and play head games ?
[i]He said coldly, voice metallic and without emotion. Had Lance been there, it would have been eerily reminiscent of Blackjack himself.[/i]
English
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"Nah. Those aren't head games. My favorite head games are where i make them pop like balloons." [i] He says, a smirk crossing his lips as he emphasized, making a "pop" sound with his lips. [/i]
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I was told you're a force of vengeance, so why the joy in slaughter? What differentiates you from any of the rest of us? [i]Jackson was clearly having none of it, tone still emotionless and cold. It wasn't anger, it was something more akin to a dissatisfaction.[/i]
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"A force of Justice." [i] He corrects him.[/i] "Vengeance is only one of the three faces of Justice." [i] He says, flicking ash off the cigarette and tossing to the cobbles, stomping it out.[/i] "What differentiates me from you? Hmm.. maybe that I'm a lot better than most of you. Or perhaps I'm the only one who's willing to stain his hands with the blood of the unclean." [i] There was that brash cockiness there, but Desmond didn't think he was the best. He just thought everyone else was worse. There was a difference. [/i]
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Better didn't make the cut. Better let an unexpected variable save your target. Better failed to kill any of the three while still concealed on higher ground. [i]Wolfe replied. Cockiness was one thing, looking down on others another, but this man had failed to complete what he set out to do. [/i]
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"You weren't my target kid." [i] A strange thing to call him, considering they were probably around the same age. Early twenties at best.[/i] "The big guy in the armor was, but even I couldn't account for Riley Daltry showing up and deflecting a round with the one of two swords in the world made of Xarite." [i] He says with a shrug, almost nonchalantly.[/i] "Shit happens."
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Sh*t happening is caused by improper accounting of outer variables. Sh*t happening is what lets your target live to see another day. [i]Wolfe had been trained in the art of perfection. Clarkson lived by the motto of the British Special Air Service; "Who dares, wins." Good operators didn't blame "sh*t happening." They made due and changed plans. There was no room for failure.[/i]
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"Yeah yeah." [i] Damien waves a hand. He seemed to take his killing very seriously, but the fact that he'd failed didn't seem to bother him. Almost like he didn't care. Desmond glanced over Wolfe's form, taking in the details, his eyes lingering on the rifle behind him.[/i] "Let me guess, special ops? Some big wig government agents bitch?" [i] He says, a smirk crossing his lips once again. [/i]
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Initially, it was more along the lines of vengeful child becoming assassin. The government job's just to make sure I don't go to jail for killing the scum of the Earth. [i]He said, rather truthfully.[/i]
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"You and me could probably get along quite well." [i] He says with a grin. The only reason he'd become a wetboy was for vengeance. It was also his only way out of the Warrens, but swearing himself to Durzo was the price. [/i]
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I'm not much on friendly conversation with men trying to kill my friends. [i]he said, the flat tone of his voice making it sound almost as if he were being sardonic.[/i]
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"Fair enough." [i] He tilts his head in a "touchè" manner.[/i] "At least you have a decent taste in rifle. I'd probably try and kill you again if you had anything that wasn't American."
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Nobody else but the Brits make any good long-range anti-armor rifles. [i]He said blandly. The weapon he carried was reliable, powerful, and easily serviced. Wolfe liked the rifle for its efficiency and its sentimental value.[/i]
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[i] Desmond carried the Chay-Tac for no other reason except that it was mobile and easy to carry, along with being quick to assemble. In his line of work, speed was everything. [/i] "Yeah, the British are alright. SAS are the only notable special operations branch on Earth in my opinion."
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You forget the Marine Corps Force Recon, the Rangers, Delta, the KSK, Spetsnaz, and the GROM. [i]Jackson had plenty of experience with special forces groups, but he knew Force Recon especially well. His father had served as a part of it.[/i]
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[i] Desmond smirked at him almost as if to say, "No I didn't." But he doesn't say anything.[/i] "I'd probably ask you for a friendly fight, but two snipers against each other makes for a boring encounter." [i]He chuckles.[/i]
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Waste of ammunition, and the urge to put a bullet in your head for shooting at my friends is just a little too high to keep things friendly. [i]He said blandly.[/i]
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"Then I suppose I'll be seeing you around. Or, you're girlfriend rather." [i] He says with a grin on his face; enjoying the moment. [/i]
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[i]He stared at the man, expression unreadable beyond the mask. Approaching, he got nearly in Desmond's face.[/i] You touch her, and I promise you I'll be the last thing you never see. [i]There was a sharp coldness to his words, no doubt about it.[/i]
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"Aww, that's a shame, those eyes are so pretty and nice to look at." [i] He says sarcastically, waving a hand through the air.[/i] "No worries tough guy, I won't kill your girlfriend. Probably. She's more valuable to the world alive. If you've ever seen what she did to a guy named Annihilation, you'd know why."
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[i]Wolfe was beyond furious. It took a lot to rile him up, but threatening the few people he cared about was plenty to do it.[/i] I don't care what she did, what she's worth to them, dead or alive. You touch her, I won't hesitate to kill you. And believe me, your little ghost won't save you.
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"Calm down there Pup. No need to get your fur in a fuss." [i] Desmond says, a smirk playing at his lips once again. He was thoroughly enjoying this. [/i]
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[i]Wolfe was silent for a moment, before turning his back on the man, and walking off.[/i]
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[i] Desmond rolled his eyes and simply shook his head, resuming his past activity of watching and observing the crowds with mild interest, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and lighting it between his lips..[/i] (End.)
