[spoiler]y'all I dunno the state of Dojoville since it was blown up and shit a few times so I'm gonna improvise[/spoiler] [b][u]Dojoville, Some Random Bar. 14:00 PM.[/u][/b] [i]It was a little past the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly even in the winter, bathing the streets of Dojoville in its warm yellow light, the bright blue sky sparsely dotted with clouds. The frosty weather nipped at exposed skin, leaving the streets almost completely barren and empty, most people hidden inside their cozy homes and comfy beds, warm and pleasant. As such, the otherwise bustling bars, taverns, and other similar places were the exact opposite of busy, only the most faithful customers there and present... along with a few more interesting individuals, most of which had little more than ill intent. It was in one such bars that the main focus of this post took place, a small gathering of interesting individuals seated around a circular table in the middle of the main room, all four of the wooden seats occupied. The table and its chairs was rustic, crafted from fine oak wood, giving a slight polish to protect against scratches and give it some shine. The room itself was much the same, just about everything made from wood, leaving the tavern with a look that suggested it was ripped straight from the Middle Ages, or something. The other tables were circular as well, each accompanied by exactly four chairs, while the two corners next to the door were filled with L-shaped booths of sorts, the couch-like seats given some red velvet padding of soft cloth, the seats paired with tables that fitted. As far as the more miscellaneous things went, there was a counter on the opposite side of the door, "walling" the place with the booze and the food off from the drunkards, though it was currently left unattended, the tender likely in the backroom. The individuals around the middle table were all far, far less interesting than the fine furniture of the tavern, consisting of three males and only one lady, whose back was facing the door, almost as if for a quick getaway. She was dressed in a cloth, gunmetal grey trench coat, the front of which was let open to show a piece of midnight black harness-like protection wear, the thing like a Kevlar vest but far sleeker, even as it hugged the woman's chest very nicely, the metal given a little rounding. It was likely made out of some metal weave, while her arms were seemingly unprotected, covered by the sleeves of her coat, hands dressed in black fingerless gloves that showed healthy tan skin and well-kept nails. On her legs, she had a pair of pencil grey jeans, with underneath, some black military boots, the right impatiently tapping on the wooden flooring. And, well, her head... it was covered by a helmet that was similar to the harness she wore on her torso, black and made from some sort of sleek metal, stylized like an ancient Barbuta helmet, the visor filled with golden one-way glass, leaving the whole piece of headwear completely expressionless and even emotionless. The men that accompanied the nameless, faceless woman were all dressed in fine, pencil grey suits, wearing polished black dress shoes on their feet, though the barbarians didn't even wear ties. Their faces were all generic and lame, handsome with slight facial hair and slicked back hair, black and blonde, and very much lame. They were uninteresting and only there to get harmed, or whatever.[/i] "So," [i]The woman spoke, her voice lightly distorted by a very slight static tone, though it was undeniably feminine, warm, and lovely to listen to, like a gentle breeze in the middle of a day in summer,[/i] "I take it y'all're goin' with the deal?" [i]When the three men nodded in unison, the lady pulled a chrome briefcase from beneath the table, the digits on her right hand firmly wrapped around the black grip. She plopped it down, sliding it to the middle of the circular surface, wearily watching the men, who were all eagerly eyeing it.[/i] "It's all in here. I'd like it if y'all would abstain from opening it until I'm out of here, though, for entirely private reasons." [i]Of course, since it wouldn't be any other way, one of the males took it upon himself to see exactly what was inside, pulling it over to him with a curious-yet-confused face, thumbs elegantly flicking the little clasps off, before opening the suitcase, revealing what was inside. When he did, just about everyone froze, except for the nameless woman, who just groaned in annoyance. Within the metal-framed case was a whole lot of wiring and other fancy, technical stuff, a keypad with the numbers 0 to 9 on the very left, with above it, a digital clock that was at 02:27 exactly, counting down by the second, while below the keypad, a single red button sat. Dominating the rest of the suitcase's inside were whole packets of explosives, neatly held in place. A bomb. Of course.[/i] "Goddammit, you goooooons..." [i]She made a dramatic sigh, her right hand darting out to the time bomb, tip of her thumb booping the red button, followed by the 5, followed by the button again, the clock going empty before flashing with 00:05.[/i] [b]"Yo! What the fuсk?!"[/b] "Sorry babe." [i]In those four remaining seconds, she tipped her seat backwards, rolling in the same direction once it hit the floor with a harsh crash, deftly landing on her feet. She turned on her heels with a half-assed wave of her hand, her boots skidding over the wooden floor. 2. She made a mad dash towards the door, right shoulder aimed at it as she prepared to ram through it. 1. She made contact, her speed and weight crashing into the door, snapping the lock and causing it to fall open. The missus fell with it, so suddenly turned around when it shot open, making her stumble back. 0. The bomb exploded with three rapid beeps mid-fall, the blast knocking her flat on her back and sending her onto the street a good meter or two. She was perfectly fine, however, even as the tavern was torn apart by a fiery inferno and a whole fuсkton of force, the three men in suits very much dead. Then, a large piece of shrapnel very unceremoniously dug into the front of her viso, hitting with a thud, sending a jolt through her body before she went limp.[/i] "Mmmmmmmmoooother[i]fuсker[/i]!" [i]She exclaimed after a good few seconds of silence and limp-ness, her voice cracking the silence that had managed to set in... no, wait, her ears were still blown out, leaving her deaf for the moment.[/i] "Fffffffuсking hellllllllll, Gods, oh Christ! Shrapnel huuuurts!" [i]She squirmed around in agony, twisting and turning as her hands wildly grasped at the piece of jagged metal that was embedded into her helmet. Her ten fingers wrapped around it, the edges digging into her flesh and her skin, blood dripping onto the front of her helm with soft little thuds, and yet, with a mighty yank, it came out, sent flying to the sidewalk, the piece that had been stuck thickly coated in blood.[/i] "GODS! Fuсking, fuсk, good Christ, ohhhhh FUСKING HELL!" [i]She squirmed some more, rolling over to her front in her wild flailing, blood dribbling out from the hole in her visor, the "glass" cracked rather thoroughly. Then, the woman went limp again, the trickle of crimson slowing down, only to stop completely. She groaned quietly, swearing underneath her breath, rolling back onto her... well, back, only to find herself surrounded by people. When her hearing returned, she found out they were bombarding her with worries, asking if she was okay or whatever. She didn't really care, waving them off with a gesture of her bloody hands and a quick, rude, and very brash "fuсk off already" until she was bothered no more. She grunted as she rose to her feet, her hands soon... no longer dripping blood as she slid them into the pockets of her trench coat.[/i] [spoiler]open y'all[/spoiler]