[Varron] Prison. [Varron]

[John Smith]

[Open for Trent. If other people want to join, give me a very good reason for you being there…]

It was depressing how fast your way of living could change. At one point he had been about to take over the whole of Varron City with the largest force the city had seen since the aboriginals decided they wouldn't play with the white oppressors anymore. He had outnumbered the police and outsmarting the other gangs that might prove a threat. He was the single most powerful man in the city, even more powerful than the corrupt mayor who had barricaded himself inside the city hall. At nighttime Kvist ruled. At morning, Kvist still ruled. At some point in the massive riots in the city, the power went out and most of the grid network went down as well, having large parts of the city running on emergency power. Leaving The Hand plenty of time to plunder the city for anything they wanted. Police was powerless to stop them, and in the matter of a single week, the FBI. Feds. Had managed to turn this massive riot into the most embarrassing public scandal ever since Clinton's affair with Monique Lewinsky. A city turned so rotten that even the police was powerless. That even the Feds was having trouble turning it into a peaceful city like it had been, centuries back. From that seat of power, Kvist was now confined to sit inside a rumbling prisoner wagon. Alone. Of course. If he was to see anyone living, beside the guards, he might cause some sort of massive riot again. Right now, he was chained to 3 different places. The ceiling, the floor and the side of the car. It had taken the bloody guards 10 minutes to get him fastened to this position. And just to be a jerk. Kvist said he had to pee, and they had to start all over with the whole thing. After some 2 hours of preparations once again, they were on the way to their new destination. Of course Kvist wasn't alone in his wagon, at the other side of the wagon a guard sat with his eyes set upon Kvist. Kvist wondered for a second if he was asleep with his eyes open, because he didn't even blink, just kept staring at Kvist like some retarded monkey. Kvist had once in a while looked back at the man, but found it fruitless, he was clearly too stupid to even react.

Behind him a thick bulletproof one-way glass was the only contact Kvist had with the outside world, and right now, they were facing east during the early morning hours. He was bathed in an unnatural bright light and he kept blinking to keep the, light provoked, tears from building up in the corners of his eyes. He wondered for a second what had happened to the rest of Varron City after his mansion had been invaded and he had been dragged away from his stronghold of power. When that second had passed he figured that they were probably scattered all over the country in flight from the police and he were back in the cramped space of his temporary holding cell. In the mean time, the police officer on the other side of the wagon had grunted once. Having Kvist snicker a bit through his mouthpiece but it was muffled. Who knew biting off a finger would result in this? It had only been his lawyer’s finger. It wasn't smart pointing at Kvist when he was under pressure; it often led to strange, yet somehow comical, but still very brutal circumstances. Like Kvist covered in his lawyers blood and having the tip of the finger inside his mouth before he involuntarily spat it out when he was knocked in the back of the head with a rather hard and blunt weapon. When he had woken up he had been assigned a new lawyer and this mouthpiece had been installed to prevent him from doing something like that again. It did limit his ways of harming people, but you would be surprised at what lengths he went before they finally just decided to let him stay in his cell for the time being. The days went by and he started to grow ever more insane as the loneliness and silence finally started picking at the limits of his insanity and pushed the borders even farther than they had been before. Some believed that to be impossible, others, wished for it to be impossible. But one night, or day, he didn’t know the time. He was in isolation after all. Guards claimed to have heard him sing a lullaby to an imaginary rock. Some days later they witnessed Kvist have an argument, with said rock. As the days went by and insanity claimed his soul more and more, his rituals grew even more bizarre. Finally they decided that for their own sanity, they would transfer him to a maximum-security prison and that finally led him to where he was sitting now. His mind bordering somewhere between being radically reduced to retarded, or radically returning to regality.

His mind stopped its futile look at the past and once again the sun irritated him endlessly. And the fucking cop was still staring at him. He started to whistle. With the mouthpiece it sounded more like a growling than a nice little whistle. Something strange happened. In all this growling/whistling the guard finally moved and Kvist’s face was smashed with the flat side of his hand. His teeth piercing through his delicate lip skin, he now tasted blood for the first time since biting off the lawyer’s finger. And it somewhat restored hope to him, the bitter taste having a unique feeling to him. His almost forgotten hateful eyes were shot upon the guard and a dark smile was shown upon his lips. The guard backed away and nearly forgot that Kvist was carefully chained to every particle in the wagon. So sudden was the shift in Kvist’s facial appearance, and so long had it been since he last had been this apparent about his intentions. The guard could almost read it on his face. If he was free, the guard would feel hell over and over again, and it would stop there. Kvist would personally ravage his family, rape and molest his wife. Turn his daughter into an obedient sex slave of his, and every year at the intensive department. The guard would receive a picture of Kvist molesting his daughter. A new picture for every year. Hell bent on revenge Kvist licked away the last traces of blood from his lips and enjoyed the current images in his mind. The ravaging of the wife. The burning of her flesh as he was through with commit fleshly sins on her body, the true fun would start. Snapping out of this reality Kvist once again looked at the guard who had regained his professional standard and was once again eying at Kvist with no expression on his face. Except perhaps the slight amount of fear present in his eyes. The wagon suddenly stank of regret. Could Kvist still be holding some sort of means of communication with the outside world? Had the lullabies merely been a cover for him holding conversations with other people? Nope. That had just been good old insanity. But playing such a trick against a poor underpaid guard like this was just cruel. But after being alone for such a long time, only having his dark thoughts interrupted by random appearances of food and water for him. It was first today he had seen another human being for a week or two.

Through the small window Kvist saw the outside world had changed, now there were trees shielding him from the onslaught of sunlight. Finally he could see the person in front of him again without having to blink like a mad man. Fortunately, the car stopped here and Kvist could only wonder why. Stopping in the outskirts of Varron City. They had been Trying to avoid the worst of morning traffic. But it seemed they couldn't do that. Kvist could only wonder what was the reason for them stopping. And not even the guard knew what was going on and the guard automatically reached down for his gun. Why the hell did the guard have to be so paranoid. Then again. If Kvist had been in his situation, he would have done the same.

[OOC: Inspiration caught me… Sorry for the long read xD ]

[Trent Davis]

"They're here."

The earpiece gave it's muffled warning, informing the temporary leader of this particular group of the truck's progress. He gave a small smirk, excited at the events to come, but not allowing it to show in his quiet voice as he responded to his lookout.

"All right. Let's get this over with."

Ten feet in front of the truck was a figure, face down in the middle of the road. Long, stringy black hair hid the face of the person, while baggy clothes kept its gender unknown as well. The driver had his orders: under no circumstances was the prisoner's transfer to be delayed. This one had been a well known gang leader, there was always the possiblity that his followers would make a last-ditch effort to save him. He thumbed the safety off his weapon, slowly opening the door and making his way towards the downed figure. Keeping the pistol trained on the prone body, he crouched down, slowly pulling on the right shoulder, while noting that it felt crunchy yet soft, turning the body over. Only to reveal a puffed out Hallowe'en treat bag where the head should be.

"A dummy?" The guard couldn't believe he'd been fooled by such a trick. It was obvious the leaf-filled figure was a decoy, and the sound of something heavy slamming into the top of the truck caused him to twist around in surprise, his pistol aimed directly at the thing that had fallen from the trees.

A branch.

Suddenly, the leaf figure sat up, blades shoved out from the sleeves and slammed into the distracted man, one in his throat and one in his chest. As fast as the attack came, it was over, the guard slumping to the ground, gurgling in his own blood as the leaf figure sprang to his feet and dashed towards the truck. As soon as he was close enough, the man jumped onto the bumper and climbed up onto the roof, making his way to the end of the truck and crouching at the back end.

Of course, during this time, the guard in the back would not be idle. However, as he tried to push out the back doors, he would find them braced against by three other men, holding the doors shut. As he drew back to slam against the door for the fourth time, the men moved, causing the guard to unexpectedly spill forth, his hands low from his shoulder tackle, his eyes up and wide to look for those who had kept him trapped.

Only to find Death and Glory slam into his face.

The man on top of the truck hopped down to the asphalt, removing the bag from his head and stripping the baggy clothes from his body, leaves spilling from his clothes underneath. Leaning over, he took the keys from the body, twirling them about as he turned to see the final living thing contained in the truck. Sighing, he tossed the keys to one of the other men, letting them go in to free Kvist while he remained outside.

"I think you've sat in the backseat long enough. Ready to ride shotgun?"

Trent paused for a moment, watching the other man work to undo Kvist from his shackles, then saw fit to add on to his comment.

"You owe me."

[John Smith]

The unmistakable sound of a human body hitting the ground. Sounded much like liberation day for Kvist, finally should he have his day of freedom, freedom forced upon those who had imprisoned him. If not. Then the more frightful thought of someone who wanted him receiving capital punishment was out to get him good for what he had done. In any case, the guard left the safety of the truck, or tried to more than once. Kvist was nearly laughing hysterically when the guard hit the door for the third time and went back again. Only the chains made sure he didn’t fall down on the ground and roll on the floor laughing. When the fourth attempt at getting free was succeeded Kvist stopped laughing, or tried to but some laughs stills escaped his mouth with some brief moments of pause. When something slammed into the face of the guard. Two knives. And soon the guard’s miserable life ended. Only one thing Kvist regretted. That it hadn’t been him holding those two knives. That still didn’t mean Kvist wouldn’t track down his family. A person jumped down from the roof of the truck, he was wielding the blades and the mask was thrown away.

And once again, Kvist started to laugh hysterically as the baggy clothing went off. Trent Davis dressed like a walking bush. Luckily, for either Kvist or Trent, the mask he was wearing muffled most of the sounds. Many seconds later, he finally stopped, resulting in him hearing whatever Trent was saying. And as much as he now regretted that. He really did owe Trent one. He wondered what Trent wanted him to do in order to repay that debt, unlike most things, Kvist kept what he promised, except when it was related to the Xiao family. The shackles were broken, or just unlocked, and Kvist moved his tired limbs. He had the mound thing removed and the person saw his face. Disguising his face was pretty empty right now since most of the world had seen his face when The United States of America published him world wide as a feared terrorist. A shame. Just meant he would have to get some surgery done before he could himself again.

“Hey Trentie, thanks for the help… What is your plan from here on?”

He jumped out from the back, and locked the helper inside the trunk where he had been imprisoned for the last couple of hours, he reached down and stripped the guard of his top uniform, took it on, found what weaponry he could and added that to his gear, what a fine young police officer he had turned into. Armed with gun, nightstick, radio, and most importantly, a stun gun. God he would have fun the latter. He was glad he had peed before going on this trip, or else he might just have made the largest anti climax known to the history of man. He turned to the left and found the front seat, got in, strapped himself (Trent = Insane. No way in hell he would drive with him without some sort of security.)

“I’ll give you an A for the planning. A for the way you carried it out. A+ for the blood and gore. But a F for the disguise. Please? A bag of leafs? I appreciate what you did, but… A bag of leafs? But get us out of here…”

[Trent Davis]

Trent made no move to stop Kvist from imprisioning the man in the back, though he gave a small grunt of annoyance at the apparent nickname Kvist had given him. The others were mere conveniences at the moment, and whether or not they survived was none of the oldest surviving Rydell's concern. He stashed Death and Glory back into his pockets, almost protesting Kvist's actions for the mere fact that he'd left the keys in the back, before stopping himself. The ignition was still on, and so, there was no need to get the spare set of keys.

"Simple. We drive away from the scene of the crime."

Trent turned from Kvist, nodding to one of the remaining men, who pulled out a cell phone. These two would not be travelling with the Hand of Fate's leader, instead, they would need to make a very important call before finding their own way to safety. Confident that the matter would be dealt with, Trent turned away from them without another word, climbing behind the wheel of the truck moments after Kvist sat down. Much as the younger man did, Trent buckled himself in as well; if everything went according to plan, he would need the added safety.

"It worked, did it not? Not many expect the decoy to be the actual attack."

Trent mentally reviewed the map he had studied beforehand of Varron, planning his route quickly before slamming his foot on the gas pedal, spurring the truck forward as fast as he could. It took a few moments, but the truck soon was speeding down the road, passing cars and glancing off a few of them, it's weight keeping it from being knocked off course by the smaller vehicles. Soon enough, police cruisers would fill the rear view mirrors, as was expected from setting loose such a high profile criminal such as Kvist, and Trent only shook his head in response. The cars were too late, for the bridge he had been searching for was now underneath the rapidly spinning wheels of the truck. However, up ahead, he could see the rapidly approaching shape of a roadblock on the other side of the bridge, impossible to slam through even with the size of the truck he was driving.

"Brace yourself. I'd rather you didn't die after all the trouble I went to in order to release you."

Even as the last word hung in the air, Trent spun the wheel to the right, sending the truck through the guardrail at the side of the bridge and into the river below.

[Kyukaku]

What else is there to say? You're an ex convict in a dying city. You think something exicting would happen, you know, Varron-like exciting....but it doesn't. Its been months and its been work and training. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Tyler Scott, more commonly known in Varron as Kyukaku, made his way down the street on his way home from work. The old shopkeeper he called Mr. Miyagi had him close shop tonight, as he did everynight the past few months. Since he had no studies to worry about, closing late wouldn't cause any problems.

But thats good right? Since the closing of the school the crime rate has been dropping. Yeah, it had a huge spike right after, but since its been on a steady decline...A quiet night means safe people I guess.

As if his thoughts had cursed the heavens themselves, Kyu turned the corner, his eyes widening at the images in front of him. It was hard to tell with the distance, but what appeared to be happening was a scarecrow of sorts hopping off a van as he stabbed an officer in the face. Kyukaku's gut sunk, the terror of the situation sinking in bringing a familiar feeling of sorts.

Shaking off the uncertainty, Kyu began to sprint down the street, watching as the scarecrow threw off his mask, revealing who it really was. Trent. The one who had caused so much pain in Varron, and Kyukaku in particular. He had caused him more than one Hospital visit, not to mention framed him for rape.

The shock caused Kyu to halt for a moment, causing the sight of Kvist stepping out of the back of the vehicle to sink in slower than it should have. In what seemed like forever, but in reality was only a few moments, Kvist had thrown one of his messiahs into the van as he and Trent walked to the front and began to drive off, the crunching and thumping of the first fallen guard being ran over snapping Kyukaku back into reality as he continued his sprint.

The van was already way too far down the street, but the two probable Hand members began to walk off into the alley as one of them whipped out a cell phone from his front pants pocket. Kyu ran directly for the alley, as there would be no hope of survival for the two officers. They would both have died on spot.

Kyukaku didn't slow down as he dodged the newspaper vender on the sidewalk, almost crashing into the corner of the wall as he entered the alley. As he closed in on the two, the footsteps began had gotten their attention, though it was too late due to the distraction of talking on the phone.

With no deceleration, Kyu planted his right foot hard, jumping off of it and doing a full 360 as his body rapidly shot up and forwards, his right leg whipping around with a roundick with his same right foot. The man with the phone would just finish speaking as the tornado kick would catch him as he turned around to face Kyukaku, the top of Kyu's right foot slamming hard into the left side of his head, the force causing the phone to whip out of his hand from the right side of his head and crash into the wall, shattering on impact. The man had fallen unconcious immediately, but not before Kyukaku overheard his last two sentences.

"They're on their way. Make sure everyone's in place."

"Fuck...!" The other one yelled through his teeth as he reached into his inner right coat pocket, attempting to pull out his 9mm beretta. Kyukaku had already finished the final torque of his hips and landed at this point, instantly bursting into the man roughly his same size if not slightly taller.

Kyukaku's left hand smashed into the inside of the thug's right wrist and grapsed it as Kyu grabbed ahold of the man's lapel with his right, slamming him into the alley wall. The man's wrist hit the wall hard, causing the gun to fire off a round into the sky as Kyu continued in, delivering a hard headbutt to the man's face.

It stunned him, giving Kyu time to smash the man's wrist against the wall two more times, causing the gun to fall from his hand. The moment didn't last however, as the man recovered and delivered a hard cross with his free left hand to Kyu's chin, causing him to stumble backwards bleeding from the mouth. The man charged again, intent on hitting him with his right hand. Kyu shook his head to clear it as he reacted just in time to move his left arm up to parry the man's punch as he brought his right across the man's cheek. Following up with a left hook punch, Kyu torqued his upperbody, sinking his knuckles deeper into the man's ribs as he built momentum for a spinning hook kick, his righ heel knocking the man out as it crashed into the side of his head.

Kyukaku took a deep breath before bringing his arm up, wiping the blood onto his denim coat sleeve. Kyu reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, dialing one of his most used contacts: 911.

"I'm placing an anonomous tip. I'm here at Plymouth and Sanctuary, a convict transport has been commandeered and I believe it was holding the gangleader Kvist. Two officers are down, and there are two accomplicces of the attack unconcious waiting for you in the alley off to the side." Kyukaku hung up as soon as he finished speaking. Being in jail himself he could be a suspect himself if he gave his name, so he decided against it.

Kyukaku walked out the other side of the alley, heading towards home. There was someone else he needed to call first. He scrolled down the contact list until he got to the L's then pressed send when it got to one of his best friends even though he hadn't spoke to him in months. His phone was probably off as it went straight to his voicemail. Clearing his throat, he decided to leave a message.

"Leon, its Kyu. I'm still here in Varron and I think something just happend that you should have a headsup on. Trent just killed a bunch of cops, and while thats more than bad news in itself, he took ahold of Kvist and now they are both free men. Kvist is arrogant, so don't be surprised if he shows up in San Fransisco for revenge. You might want to give a headsup to Taiku and the others."

[John Smith]

"..."

No response from Kvist at all, he just checked the gun for ammunition, a full clip, that should come handy in case Trent drove off the road or something like that. Which reminded him, did Trent have a driver’s license? Did he know how to drive? The wheels spurred and this brought more doubt to the front of his mind. A snicker from him ended those thoughts and he leaned back in the seat and looked out the window as the Hand members, or so he believed, went off to do something else. A shame, he could have used people to sacrifice in case something went wrong. He heard the sirenes in the background now, and it rapidly grew louder and louder until Kvist could see a swarm of police cars in the side window.

"I am quite popular it seems..."

Random rough-boy remark. He seemed to completely ignore the rapidly growing numbers of police after them, and ignore the fact that they were in a slower wagon than the police and they would easily be able to keep up, and even drive past them if they wished. Trent might just have fucked up completely in this, but Kvist didn't see any kind of worry or otherwise in the face of Trent. He got a half smile on his face as he watched where they were going. A bridge. If the police had been fast they could have blocked the other end of the bridge, forcing the fugitives to either stop and surrender or try and ram their way through.

"Brace yourself. I'd rather you didn't die after all the trouble I went to in order to release you."

Well, stay on the road then!

The entire wagon seemed to be torn apart in the massive crash as they went over the edge and went into a free fall. Having the largest adrenalin rush in his gut, he was fine. He put his arms up to guard his face so when the wagon did stop, he would slam against the window with the arms, not with his unprotected face. He really hoped Trent had planned this through.

Where's my mask when I need it...

[Trent Davis]

OOC: Sorry it took so long. I forgot it was my turn.

IC:

Rather than protect himself in the few moments before the truck impacted against the water, Trent was busy rolling down his window, relying on his seatbelt to do its job. The pressure of the water would keep Trent from being able to open the door until the pressure inside the truck equalized, taking far too much time for his weakened lungs to compensate for, and so, as soon as the front end of the truck submerged, he undid his seatbelt and pushed himself through the open window, confident that Kvist would do the same when he noticed the open window.

The truck began to sink into the darkness, the river seemed to be quite deep. Couldn't have picked a better spot... A few seconds passed, and Trent's brow furrowed, his arms and legs working slowly to keep himself submerged a fair distance under the surface of the water. After what seemed like far too long, but had only been a matter of fifteen seconds or so, he began to make out dark shapes heading towards him, ones that made him smirk in satisfaction. He could see the flippered feet on the closest one, as well as the extra tank of air. Swimming rapidly towards the man, Trent placed the mask over his mouth, exhaling first to clear the tube before sucking in the sweet air.

Trent had no thought of the man in the back of the truck; his life was expendable, and there was always sacrifices when he was forced to work with others, necessary or not. The other men would deal with cleaning the mess up, all he and Kvist had to do was get out of Varron. Trent had a brother to pursue, and he doubted Kvist was done with some of the enemies he'd made that had transferred. Oddly enough, Trent had made some of the same foes. Dain, Kyukaku, Leon... they all had managed to catch Trent's interest, in the peculiar way that was often quite dangerous for the person in question. He would destroy everything they had, everything he could possibly find, and then, finally, he'd kill them, face to face.

It was just too perfect.