The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Roleplay => Serious RP => Topic started by: Blaiiine on March 31, 2018, 03:44:48 AM
-
-- Hell's Kitchen (Manhattan), New York City. 11/09/10 --
Snow fell heavily across the city, but it seemingly unfazed the standard fare of New York traffic. Honking and yelling were normal, filling the air with a noise pollution that was only cut by the sound of screaming metal.
Zipping between cars, the man on the motorcycle made his way through the bumper to bumper traffic with relative ease. Occasionally, he'd respond to an irate driver with an unfriendly gesture before blaring off again.
The motorcycle cut into an alley off one of the main roads in Hell's Kitchens' industrial district. Nothing but factories, slums and warehouses lined the roads with the occasional bar or diner filling a small corner. The man stopped the motorcycle, a black Sportster that had been chopped into a bobber, outside a brick walled building.
The black, metal door held a small sign that read: LOST BREED M.C., NO SOLICITORS.
The man laughed, pulling down the bandana that had covered his muzzle. Revealing the fur pattern of a spotted hyena, the man banged on the door. A slit opened, two hazel eyes looking out before the sounds of locks shifting were heard.
"Prez!" The overweight collie yelled as he opened the door. The hyena laughed in response, hurrying inside to escape the cold. "Hey there, Ralph. Seems like the bar opened early for you.." Jeremy, the hyena, said as he lit a cigarette.
-
A second bike was taking a much slower approach of patrolling a few streets before making it's way to the alley. On the bike sat a small fox, he looked up in annoyance at the sky before teasing the throttle and going faster towards the alley. As he rumbled into the industrial district the fox looked behind him, checking that a heavy golfing bag still sat behind him, which it did. He smiled and looked back to the road, cutting into the same alley and hopping off the bike. He left it beside the bobber and picked up the heavy bag, slinging the strap over his head and on his shoulder he walked up to the door and knocked.
-
As Jeremy sat down at the bar, Ralph the collie could be heard giving the fox the same treatment before opening the door bombastically.
The hyena rapped the countertop with his knuckles, catching the attention of the heavily pierced barkeep. "What'll it be, prez?" The coyote asked, cleaning a glass with an oil stained rag. Jeremy could hardly hear him over the sound of the jukebox, which permeated the air with loud metal.
"For one, I don't want it in that..." Jeremy replied, pointing to the glass the bartender held. "...just surprise me, man." He finished, brushing the hair from out of his eyes. The coyote nodded and disappeared below the counter. After a few seconds, he reappeared with a small full glass.
The hyena nodded in appreciation, taking a drag off his cigarette before taking a drink. It burned, but in a way that warmed him up inside from the bigger cold. Another night at the bar, the hyena thought to himself as he sat upon his metaphorical throne.
-
Wilco walked up the alley, before stopping outside the brick walled building and knocking, checking his right arm as he does so. He makes sure nothing is out of place as he waits for the door to open, and sighs, thinking of a new idea he would craft, with the boss' permission, of course.
-
Rayleonarde Blackburn, the crippled raccoon who often worked in the clubhouse basement, carefully made his way up the stairs, one of the newbloods helping him along. For Ray had been in the military prior to joining the Lost Breed after getting home. An IED had taken away his legs, cutting his career short, something Ray said in bitter irony. He quietly made his way to an otherwise empty bench and took a seat, massaging his thighs. The raccoon looked about the clubhouse, peering through squinting eyes. His left eye was glass replica, shrapnel having stolen his original. He waved at the door as it opened, as he wasn’t able to clearly see who had entered.
-
Kai nodded silently to Ralph. He then stepped in and sat beside Jeremy, putting his bag beside him against his seat. "Boss." He nodded to Jeremy.
-
"Ugh..can we not do the formal crap, man? Two weeks, Davis' has been in the pen and everyone is calling me prez." Jeremy moaned, finishing his short lived rant with the rest of his drink.
"Sorry. I've been stressed as hell." He followed up with, feeling some guilt for his minor explosion. The hyena rubbed his eyes, tired from nights of riding to other clubs in nearby states.
The situation wasn't so great when Jeremy picked the ball up from the last President, who was inside for racketeering. There was the constant turf wars with other bikers and gangs, along with the side projects that the club managed. The main one was guns, but that caused more problems than solved them.
Two months before Jeremy temporarily took over for Davis, they sat in with their guns contacts who were livid over shipments that were being hijacked on their way to the club or to the depot. This issue persisted until Davis "took care of it", which led to the newest one.
The turf war imploded as Davis went in, with Jeremy holding the buck on six dead Lost. The hyena had been following leads through out town just to come up short, which was taking a toll on him.
"Anyways, you want a drink? It'll warm you up." Jeremy asked Kai, giving the fox a toothy grin.
-
Wilco looks around, sighing as he spots Jeremy at the bar, before sitting next to him. "Hey Jer..." He says quietly, his body vibrating from the coolant circulation.
-
The fox replied with only a smirk, he turned to the barkeep, catching his attention. "Anything over 20%." He then turned back to Jeremy and nodded to Wilco. "Well, Jeremy. Known you for a while and haven't seen ya this tore down." He raised an eyebrow, "Got anything new on the leads?" He asked and picked his bag up, moving it closer and setting it back down.
-
"Hell no...seems like all anyone knows is there were bikes around the shootings. Doesn't leave much to speculate on." Jeremy replied, nodding to Wilco as well.
The barkeep nodded to Kai, returning with three full glasses. Setting them down, the barkeep disappeared down the hatch into the cellar.
"At this point, our businesses are at a stand still because everyone is afraid they'll get popped next," Jeremy continued before taking a sip from his glass. "So next time something happens, we'll know since they'll have to come to us."
-
Wilco's arms flare at Jeremy's statement and his eyes gleam. "I feel like a killing... No... I can't do that again..." He shakes his head and orders some vodka, before switching into a Soviet uniform, MC Lost Breed style. "Oy Pizdec... This is bad..." He says in a strong Russian accent.
-
Kai took his glass and looked into it, as if wondering if the answer to their problems would be resting at the bottom. But alas, there was only a heavy drink. He took a sip and sat it back down, looking up to Jeremy. "What if some of the boys get rowdy before we get our answer?" He asked, concerned that the Lost weren't gonna want to wait for so long or the attackers might be too smart to do that. "Maybe this suspicious gang is going to just tease us back out into the open by waiting out for things to get rolling again." He then took another sip, sighing at the warmth and the burn.
-
Wilco gets off his stool and walks over to Kai. "Comrade Kai... Who knows... I get the feeling that Jer may be right on this one..." He then walked to the door, following the raccoon's footsteps from earlier, while sipping the vodka and saying russian curses to himself.
-
There were streaks of color and bursts of sound as the hyena slept. The city flew past him as he tore down empty streets. A surge of sound made him tense and as his bike slid out from under him he woke with a start. Lifting his head from the work table he looked over at the fresh blood that had opened the door to the garage.
The building was thick and sturdy, so it was only when the door was opened that sounds crossed clearly, and there was metal pouring into the garage. The hyena scowled as he was trying to get himself fully awake, throwing a crude gesture at the poor canid. The wolf mumbled an apology then cleared his throat, "Jeremy is back, thought you might wanna know, is all."
That's right, the hyena suddenly put it together, Jeremy is our new president. God help that son of a gun. The hyena wante the wolf away, grabbing up the bottle of rum he'd fallen asleep with and made his way further into the clubhouse. One he'd found the others he groggily walked over to the jukebox and changed the music to Iron Maiden and then walked over to the others. "Sorry, was in the garage and.." he held up what was now half a bottle of rum and smiled.
-
Kai shrugged and waved him over. "Happens to us all." He took a sip of his own drink and shifted in his seat. Reaching down he unzipped the golfing bag and gripped the solid barrel of something. Pulling it out further revealed the long barrel, bi-pod and a X16 scope which had been separated from the rest of the gun with some heavy modding. He also pulled out a cloth and a thin pipe, using it to clean the barrel.
-
Ray, seeing movement towards the basement, shouted out. “Careful down there! Lots of stuff down there. And don’t move my tools!” He stood carefully, grabbing the corner of the table for balance. “Is Jeremy here yet?”
-
Jeremy silently raised his glass in response, still glaring at the back of the bar. "Either way, we ain't doing anything tonight." He said, looking to Kai.
-
"It's just me Ray, Don't worry." Wilco pokes his head into where Ray is. "I'm just heading to my area is all..." He then sips the vodka and walks off.
-
Ray, catching the glint from Jeremy’s glass, made his way to the president’s table. “I’m runnin’ outta resources, boss. Fixin’s are gonna get tough soon. We’re running tight on toys.”
-
Kai nods in agreement as he cleans his rifle, moving on to inspect the scope and take a one-last look down the barrel before slipping it back into he bag and zipping it closed. He then polished off his glass and looked to Jeremy. "Layin' low eh?" He shrugs, "Well, let's hope trouble finds us. It always does." Looking over to Ray Kai sighed, "Let's hope it does very soon. We can't hold out very long by the sound of it."
-
Wilco stops at the door and turns around. "I could go scavenging, if you want Ray. I'm running low too. And besides, I need to get out more..." He sighs and leans against the wall, his arm and legs hissing quietly.
-
“Scavenging?” Ray’s brow furrowed. “Trash parts don’t work, ‘less you’re lookin’ for just firecrackers. We need t’get our supply lines reopened.” He sighs, shakes his head, and awkwardly stumbles back towards the basement. “I need t’check all the feed I got for Ma Deuce.”
-
"Just trying to help... Thank god the military was equipped properly..." He sighs and spawns his personal UMP 45, checking the magazine before walking down towards the range. "I'll be testing this if anyone wants me..." He then enters the range, dimming his hearing as he prepares for a session.
(If I'm out of line, I'm sorry.)
-
Standing up, the hyena finished his drink and pulled his vest back over the black flannel shirt he had on. "Kai, me and you are gonna run to Coney Island so bring something you can use on your bike," Jeremy said as he pointed to Kai's rifle bag. "I had one more lead that I was gonna put off until tomorrow but might as well do it now."
The hyena stepped out of the meeting room, lighting another cigarette. "I'll meet you outside." He said to the fox before slowly stepping outside, nodding to Ralph on his way out.
The bitter air slapped the hyena across the face, who shivered in response. Jeremy made his way over to his Sportster, kicking the start gear which brought the bike to life. Sitting down, he reached under his flannel shirt and retrieved a Beretta handgun. Checking the slide, he stuffed the gun back into its holster and awaited Kai.
-
(I take it me and Ray just hang around the clubhouse for now? Cause I'm getting myself lost vwv)
-
((I gotcha, dude.))
As Jeremy waited, he took out his cellphone and tapped out a quick message to Wilco. "Goin' to see a lead about some dead guys. Take the bag by the bar and take Ray to Terrys in Hudson Yard. Get guns and ammo." He typed out, hitting the send button.
-
Wilco feels his phone vibrate and checks the message. "Ray!" He calls out, despawning the UMP. "Jer wants us to head to Terrys!" He finishes saying as he heads upstairs, grabbing said bag by the bar and waiting for Ray.
-
Kai nodded, pulling a Walter P.38 out of a side pocket on his rifle bag. He slipped the pistol into his waistband and picked up the bag with care. He then slung the strap over his head onto his shoulder before pulling the pistol back out and checking it's mag which was one bullet from being full. 7 bullets and another mag in a pocket should be enough for what they were to do. He slammed the mag back home and hurried to join Jeremy outside, kicking his own bike to life he strapped down the bag to the back and hopped on, stuffing his own pistol into his waist band under his coat. "Let's get going."
-
Ray, gently setting a rather beaten up sawed-off pump-action shotgun aside, gingerly got up from his stool. The curved plastic prosthetics clicked gently against the concrete as he made his way to the basement stairs. “Terry’s? As in Hudson Yard Terry?” The raccoon sighed as he navigated the stairs. “Fine. I’m not expecting much from him.” He trundle slowly towards the front door, pulling a black-cloth eyepatch over his glass eye; the thing had a habit of jumping ship while Ray was riding.
-
Jeremy took no time, pulling back on the throttle and hauling off down the alley onto the main road. With a glint of red light, the hyena was gone and onto the highway to Brooklyn.
-
Right behind the hyena Kai zipped down the highway behind him. The pistol heavy against his hip, the breeze and snow battering his face.
-
Wilco sighed. "I agree with you there mate, but Jer wants us to get guns and ammo off him, and I guess whatever is in this bag will help..."
-
Jeremy flew down the highway, hitting the main bridge into Brooklyn. After a few minutes, they made into the borough. And after another half hour, they arrived in the neighborhood of Coney Island.
Exiting off the Belt Parkway, Jeremy stopped at a gas station to refill his bike. Shutting the bike off at one of the pumps to wait for Kai, he noticed a few other bikers outside the store.
They were wolves, three in total, all standing around looking tough like it was going out of style. The hyena just laughed quietly to himself as he waited for his friend.
- - Hudson Yard, Manhattan - -
At a small shop, an older Doberman sat at a counter watching a small box TV still hooked up to an old school antenna. His nametag, worn and faded, read Terry. The phone on the counter beside him vibrated, being stopped almost instantly.
The dog grumbled as he opened the phone, finding a text message from Blaine. 'Two of my boys are coming by for a gift exchange.' The message read, to which the Doberman replied with a few taps of the screen.
Terry stood up and walked over to the front door, unlocking it and grabbing the sawn off shotgun nearby. He had always trusted the Lost but it never hurt to be safe, just in case of any foul ideas. Returning to the counter, he sat back down and returned to his nightly programming while he awaited Ray and Wilco.
((So if you guys haven't already guessed, I'm going to be pretty specific with locations and neighborhoods of NYC. Especially with Manhattan and the Lost's neighborhood in that borough, Hell's Kitchen.))
-
Alrighty))
Kai slid to a stop at the next pump and did the same, looking to Blaine and raising an eyebrow before looking at the wolves. Finishing that off, he walked to Jeremy with his bike.
-
Ray’s three-wheeled hog grumbled as he pulled into Terry’s lot. The raccoon gingerly dismounted the olive-drab machine, cutting the engine before removing his helmet. Carefully, Ray walked to Terry’s storefront as he removed his eyepatch. He looked for Wilco, whom he had left the bar with, a slight look of disdain on his face.
It wasn’t a secret that Ray wasn’t Wilco’s biggest fan, what with his ‘DARPA or whoever’s’ prosthetics, as the raccoon put it. His ire, however, was just misguided, as Ray’s limbs were payed for by the Army, but were obviously years behind what they could have been.
‘Probably can feel with ‘em...’ Ray thought to himself, ‘gets t’feel the snow underfoot. I got blown half to hell, and what’d I get? Two bent pogo sticks and three grand more on pension...’ Ray shook his head, quickly pulling out a cigarette to light.
-
[Hudson's Yard]
The sound of a 350cc 4-Stroke engine could be heard behind Ray as Wilco pulls in, bag slung around his back. Wilco pulls up beside Ray and cuts the ignition, before getting off. Wilco looks at Ray and sighs. "Shall we?" He asks.