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Knives in a Gunfight

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 1:48 am

Oh, did Audrey loathe Chicago. He hated the place with all his heart, but it was where he was born, and he couldn’t avoid it forever. He needed to go to his home to pick up a few new weapons anyway. He sucked up all his anger in order to fly over there. The city was the city that killed his wife, and he will never forgive the dreadful streets on which she used to roam. He wanted to collect his things and get out of the dreadful city as quickly as he could. He had gone home to pick up his stuff, packing it into a small trolley bag. The things he had gotten consisted of tools for developing his own weapons, some bigger guns, some prototypes he was still testing on, and, more guns. The inside of his house had gathered dust through his years of avoiding it. The only actual section of the house that was ever used was his bedroom and his workshop. Everything else was just dull and unused, ever since his wife died.

Walking into the house was like a landslide of nostalgia. The times where he used to actually smile out of happiness, and when his wife would cook meals in that kitchen of theirs, and how Audrey would try to make something nice, but end up with something burnt to a crisp. It hurt to even sleep in the same bed he used to sleep in with his wife, so a lot of the time, he slept on the floor of this sad house. He shook the thoughts out of his head and took a deep breath. Once he started travelling again, he probably did not need to come back for very much. He might need to come back to continue his hunt for supers, but he would stay away from his old house. Far, far away. Memories were painful things, after all.

He closed the door to his past, locked it, and carried on through the streets of Chicago, trolley bag being pulled behind him. He had his usual weapons on him. Michelle, his favourite revolver, Sally Marie, his SMG, as well as Holly, his portable sized shotgun. He didn’t trust the streets of Chicago, though. He brought extra ammunition with him, which was his pistol. That was always a good weapon to have strapped onto him. He even had his trolley bag of guns if anything went wrong. All he needed to do now, in the slowly approaching night, was to get to the airport and catch a plane to some other state. He kept his head low, sneaking glances at every person he walked by, mentally wondering if any of the people he walked past were supers.

As he walked, his feet brought him down the street he and Jennifer were walking down the night she was brutally murdered by that super. That red haired, green eyed super, that put an injury in him much too hard to repair; a broken heart. He couldn’t help but stop dead in his tracks when he realised he was in front of the alleyway his wife died in. The alleyway that the murderer had come out from, and told them to give him all they had. At the time, he was naive enough to believe that ‘all they had’ did not include their lives. Audrey slowly started to walk into the alleyway. It was dirty, that was for sure, and he knew that his wife’s blood, and his own, were probably imbedded into the ground of this alleyway.

He slowly pulled out his revolver from his holster. He was going to kill anyone who decided to dwell in this alleyway. Any unfortunate soul that decided this was a good place to hide was going to lose their life. The animosity within him was bubbling, and he needed to take out his anger on something. Someone, even. He just needed something dead to make up for the loss of his wife. His grip on the revolver tightened as he ventured further down the alleyway, trolley bag still being dragged behind him. There was a lot of hatred behind those blue eyes of his. Hatred and a burning need to exact vengeance on whatever had hurt him so.

He couldn’t just come to Chicago, go into that dusty old house of his, and leave without the blood of someone that needed to be killed. Justice had to be brought to the city of Chicago. Nobody lurked in alleyways without something bad to do. They all had a reason for being there, and Audrey was going to make them regret it. He would make everyone regret the day they decided to turn their life into that of crime and the murder of the innocent. Audrey, to himself, was but a humble street cleaner, ridding the world of what is foul and what is tainted and what should be disposed of.

He slowly clicked the hammer of his revolver, hoping someone would have been lurking in the darkness of the alleyway for him to shoot.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 2:10 am

Home. That was what Chicago was to Mack. He started his criminal career here. He remembered the night he killed his boss. He remembered walking into his boss' office. The image of his boss cowering in the corner. He begged for his life, offering Mack money. Of course, Mack didn't bother listening to his pleas for mercy. He remembered cutting off pieces of his face, before castrating him. He then cut him into pieces and mailed them to anybody that was affiliated with the mob boss. Just the memory of that historical moment got Mack excited.

He realized he was about to shoot a film. A snuff film to be exact. There were five corrupt cops tied up and gagged who worked for a rival. He needed to send a message. They were shooting in an abandoned warehouse. Always handy to have a few around. "Does my hood look intimidating enough?". His henchmen lazily nodded. "Action". the camera started rolling. "Hello ladies and gentlemen". Mack put on his most friendly sounding voice. "I have got five lucky volunteers here to demonstrate a magic trick". He slit the first one's throat. "Ta da". The cop slumped to the ground.

"This is what happens to people that fuck with me" Mack's jovial voice had turned into a growl. He slit the second cop's throat. "Anyone that wants to cross ole Macky is gonna end up like these chumps". He slit the third one's throat. "The name's Mack. Mack the Knife". He slit the fourth ones throat. "And I'm coming to stores near you!". He slit the last one's throat and pushed the body onto the ground.

Once the camera stopped rolling, Mack let out a laugh. "Quality camerawork. Just for that you're all getting a raise". He was about to leave when he stopped in his tracks. "Upload that shit to Youtube. I wanna see how many views it gets". He quickly left the warehouse and got into the truck. This was going to be a fun stay.


((Im using my Mack the Knife character))

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 3:24 am

Ah, a lovely couple making out in the alleyway. That’s what couples did, right? Made out in discreet locations in the middle of the night. There was a sharp pain in his heart as he approached them, clicking his hammer once again to gain their attention. They pulled away from each other and stared at him, shocked that this stranger was holding a gun at them. Who wouldn’t be. Audrey took this time to analyse the couple. They both had wedding bands on their fingers, which would mean they were married, or having some sort of hot affair.

“Are you married?” he asked plainly. The couple slowly nodded, and Audrey couldn’t help but tense up. He pulled the trigger and shot the girl through the skull, who collapsed in the man’s arms. The man let out a horrifying screech at that. “This was the alley where my wife was killed.” he said, turning to point the gun at the man, who looked as if he were going to break down right then and there. “I want the whole of Chicago to know my pain. To know the pain of The Widower.” Audrey couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the man, but then again, this was what he had felt when his wife died that fateful night. He let loose another trigger, shooting the man in the chest. He wasn’t sure whether he would live or die, but he didn’t care. He could spend his last moments crying over the loss of his wife, and the few moments he spent as a widower.

He put his revolver back into its holster and continued his walk down the streets of Chicago. As he walked past what he recognised as an old warehouse, he heard what he knew as the sickening sound of someone being killed. A guttural type of noise, muffled by both the walls of the warehouse, and something else. They weren’t killed by gunshot, though. Guns were too loud and too fast for someone to make a sound like that. He inched backwards to look through the window, seeing these men dressed in orange with hoods over their heads. He could vaguely hear things being said, but it was not clear enough for him to make out what. People were being killed, though. Throat slitting was apparently the manner in which the people were being killed.

Audrey really did not care for the lives lost. He was the type of guy who just, well, did not care. He did, however, watch as one of the men in the orange jumpsuit got out and climbed into a truck. Audrey was curious. He wanted to know why the man did what he did and why he seemed to be recording it. Was this some sort of wannabe joker or something? He quickly, but almost nonchalantly, hopped into the back of the truck. He was careful and quiet about it, staying low and pushing away things that were in his way. He slowly brought out his revolver, grasping it tightly in his hand. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get three kills that night he would be able to add to his list of people dead. He felt a bit bad, though, because this man had killed more people than he did in one night. How unfair. Then again, this guy wasn’t just hunting down supers specifically, or so he thought.

Hopping into the back of the truck was probably not the smartest idea he had ever had. He had no clue who this man was, or what he did, and all Audrey had on him were his guns and his trolley bag of stuff. He ultimately regretted his decision, because the longer he was on it, the more he realised that this man could kill him. The man had other people with him, after all. He mentally slapped himself and told himself that he should have ignored it. Should have kept on walking and hailed a taxi to the airport so he could go off to some other state. He shouldn’t have gone looking for trouble. That was in the past, now, though, and all he could do was wait with his revolver in hand.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 3:44 am

Mack was driving through Chicago. He found a disc in the glove compartment and put it in. It was some old 50s music. Mack's favorite. As he drove through the city, he noticed two dead bodies in an alleyway. He saw that they were going to get married. Marriage was for chumps. Mack was never really attracted to anybody, man or woman. He would sometimes get excited whenever he was killing someone, but that was as far as it went.

He finally made it to his hideout, which was in an abandoned restaurant. He got out of the truck and walked in the back door. The place was presumed to be long abandoned. But Mack had turned it into his own base of operations. He had turned what was the kitchen into a planning room. The storage room was turned into an armory. Mack saw hooded men hard at work. He was just gonna sit back and relax.

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 4:21 am

All through the ride, Audrey was taking quiet, deep breaths. He didn’t want to attract too much attention. He exercised his grip on the revolver, finger hovering outside the trigger guard. He didn’t want to accidentally fire, even though it was highly unlikely that he would. Audrey was no idiot, after all. He could hear some really lame, old music, coming from the front of the truck. He could finalise two things. This man was a killer, and he had terrible taste in music. Quietly, Audrey thought about Chicago and how much he hated it. On how he had saved the poor couple from getting themselves hurt some other time. He thought it was some sort of sympathy killing, actually. He didn’t want their marriage to be destroyed by the terrible city of Chicago. He’d rather take the blame and take their lives. Audrey thought himself a saviour, after all.

When the car came to a stop, he counted to ten. That was a safe number. The man should have gotten out of the truck by then. He quietly got out of the truck and looked around, surveying the place. He didn’t want to lose the man, but he did. Everyone seemed to be dressed in the same manner. Orange jumpsuits with black hoods. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb, so he did what he had to do. He quietly snuck up behind one of the henchmen, who had been on his own, away from many of the rest, and put a hand over the hood, on what he expected was a mouth.

“Shh.” he whispered, “Just go to sleep.” With that, he carefully felt for the nose and pinched it, using the hand with the revolver still in it to stop the guy from squirming too much. When he suspected the man to be unconscious, he dragged him to a more secluded place, taking the jumpsuit and the hood. He didn’t even care to look at the man. He felt bad for his suit. Extremely bad. Good thing the jumpsuit had a zipper in the front. He could zip it off and quickly grab his weapons if he needed it. He pulled the hood over his head and started walking. Maybe he would get a few looks because of his trolley bag, but if he did, he didn’t care because he’d shoot them if they asked him about it. He didn’t have time for loitering, and just went to whichever way he guesstimated the man had gone to. It was hard, since everyone looked the same.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 4:49 am

Mack was working out his next crime. Rob a bank? Maybe a liquor store? Kidnap someone? Assassinate an enemy? The possibilities were endless. He walked around the kitchen and slapped one of his henchmen in the back. "Go down to the basement and feed the dogs for me". The henchman nodded and rushed off to the basement. Mack was always friendly with his henchmen, it was a great way to ensure loyalty. There were always men looking for jobs.

Mack walked into the armory and looked at all the guns. They were only for the henchmen to use. Mack only used guns when they were necessary. You didn't get the rush of severing a limb by shooting somebody. He looked around and found his machete sitting in the corner. He picked it up and cleaned it with a cloth. "Ah, this is more like it". He swung it around before heading out to the kitchen.

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 5:32 am

Following some of the henchmen had led him to the kitchen. It was really weird, that everyone was dressed the same. He felt as if he was hopelessly lost, actually. This is why he preferred to scout places first. He had slipped his gun into the pocket of the jumpsuit, that he was happy it had, and looked around the kitchen. It was just, well, a kitchen. A kitchen of a restaurant. What else was it supposed to look like? He turned his head when he noticed a man walk out with a machete. Why would a henchman walk out with a machete, well, he didn’t know. He just guessed this was the man he was looking for, with the way he swung it. He wondered what was inside the room he had come from and headed towards there, trolley bag being pulled behind him.

He thought he could just walk right past the man with the machete. He even held his breath as he tried to walk past the man. He hated the hood, he really did. But then again, it seemed to be a good way to conceal identities. He was going to have to burn the hat he had on, since the hood was on it most of the time. He was going to also burn the suit he was wearing. Ugh, he felt disgusted by it. Wearing something only convicts would wear. He was a saviour, a hero, a humble street cleaner, even, he shouldn’t be wearing this.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 5:45 am

Mack was walking out of the storage room, before he noticed a goon that was heading his way. Mack got a whiff of him. He smelled way too clean to be just another henchman."Hey you!". Mack wanted to know who the guy was. "Stop right there". Mack walked up to him and saw the number on the man's jumpsuit. "Take off your hood". Mack had memorized the faces of every henchmen of his. If he couldn't recognize the face, it was probably someone else

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 5:54 am

Ah, the person had stopped him. God damn it. He thought he would be able to see what was back there where the guy had originally appeared from. He slowly turned to face the man, quietly letting out the breath he had been holding. He was wondering why in the world he was stopped. He hadn’t done anything too suspicious, had he. Audrey had to restrain himself from moving to grab the gun and just pointing it at the man, but his body did tense.

“My hood,” he paused for a second just to swallow his pride, “...sir? I thought the hood was to conceal identities.” he stated, trying to keep his voice steady. He couldn’t help but glance the other way for a moment. “Taking it off would defeat the purpose of the hood entirely.” he kept his hand close enough to his pocket to be able to whip it out in a split second. He needed to keep himself safe, after all. He didn’t want to mess with a man who held a machete. Then again, was what he was saying considered messing with him? Who knew.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 6:01 am

"Normal henchmen would remove the hood right away". Mack quickly raised his machete and shouted at the top of his lungs. "The guys a fucking narc, get him!". The henchmen gathered in the kitchen brandished their weapons. Crowbars, baseballs bats, chains, knives, any weapon they had on them. Some even had their pistols. Mack disappeared into the crowd of goons. He was going to watch his men beat the shit out of that cop.

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 6:16 am

At that point of time, Audrey panicked. He whipped off the hood, grabbed his revolver, and unzipped the jumpsuit, hopping out of it as quickly as he could. Good thing his trolley bag was the sturdy kind, because he used it to hit the henchmen who were getting too close to him with weapons. He knew how to fight, and these goons were, well, goons. They had a bit of fight in them, but they were sloppy, in his mind. Then again, what could one expect from people who dressed like convicts. He’d put them in choke holds, and punched them in the guts, and even knocked some out by utilising his experience and knowledge of pressure points. He wasn’t wasting bullets on these guys.

He lost the man he guessed was the leader in the crowd. As one with a crowbar got too close, he kicked him in the face and used it as a springboard to launch himself upwards. He was looking for the man with the machete. Everyone else did not matter. He still had the revolver gripped in his hand tightly as he used the heads of the henchmen as a sort of platform for running. Sure, he may have been bombarded by crowbars and baseball bats, but he kicked those off, and stepped harder on the heads of the ones with guns. He didn’t want them to shoot him.

“Just so you know, I’m not a narc. I don’t even know what that means.” he stated, still looking for the man with the machete.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 6:25 am

Mack was gonna fight to the death if he had no other option. Fortunately, he did. He open the door to the basement and tapped his machete on the wall. "Lunch time!". The dogs rushed out of the basement and lunged at the intruder. Those dogs were bred by Mack himself, they were going to tear this fucker apart.

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Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 6:36 am

There was the shout of something about lunch. And then the bark of dogs. “Oh god.” he muttered to himself. He was never a fan of dogs at all. He quickly smashed the two heads he was standing on together and flipped off of them, landing on the ground. He jumped and landed on one of the dogs, but oh god, did he hate dogs. One of them even lunged at him and took a nice big bite out of his suit.

He kicked them away and decided this was a good time to use bullets. Audrey was trained to fight people and know their weak points, not animals. He shot at them, aiming for between the eyes. He even smacked a few with that trolley bag, using it as a shield of sorts. One of the little fuckers were on his ankle, so he had to pry that one off. The moment he got it off, he made a mad dash for it, ignoring whatever pain was coming from his poor ankle. He didn’t give a shit anymore. They brought in the dogs and he had to run.

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Post by dantoon on September 2nd 2012, 7:45 am

Mack cringed when the man shot his dogs. Mack wasnt going to let this little shit just come in and wreck the place up. His goons were all either broken or terriffied of the man. "Never send amateurs to do a pros job". He took out one of his throwing knives and threw it at the door. It landed dead center. "Get back here! You aint gonna leave you sack of shit!" Mack scraped his machete on the wall. "I'm gonna gut you like a fish"

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Knives in a Gunfight Empty Re: Knives in a Gunfight

Post by The Widower on September 2nd 2012, 8:04 am

If he counted correctly, he had three bullets left in his revolver. He was going to need to reload, and reloading was something you did after your opponent was dead. He didn’t have the time for that. He was heading for the door, but stopped dead in his tracks when a knife flew past, hitting the door with what seemed like great speed and accuracy. He slowly turned his attention from the door and towards the man who had thrown it. He quietly swallowed as he scraped the machete along the wall. He put the revolver back into its holster, reached inside his jacket, and pulled out his shotgun, pivoting the handle so he could actually hold it properly.

“I’ll pump you full of lead.” he stated. He took his three shots at the guy, pumping it between shots, of course, to get rid of the empty shells. He had to reload, sure, but at least he wasn’t slow at reloading. He wasn’t going down without a fight. He wanted to be able to leave this place, and he regretted his decisions so much at that point. He didn’t stand still while he was reloading, of course, he moved around. He wasn’t some sort of third class fighter. He knew what he was doing... sort of.

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The Widower
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Knives in a Gunfight WVbowcq
The Widower
The Widower

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