Hannibal King (hail_king) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-09-13 09:05:00 |
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Current music: | Tao of the Machine - The Roots & BT |
Entry tags: | hannibal king, jared nomak, seth nightlord |
Who: Hannibal King and Jared Nomak (Open)
When: Late night??
Where: Meat packing plant. (think opening scene from Blade 1)
Why: Gonna kick some vampire ass and make a new shiny friend
Rating: R
Status: In Progress
Standing on the roof of the opposite warehouse the smell alone made his nose crinkle. Almost made him consider getting some of that goo morticians slopped on their noses to keep out the stench of decaying flesh while they worked. Would be a waste, right? Soon the building was going to smell like a fireplace and blood. Errrr…more blood? Abby would love the music though. That loud techno-hip-hop crap she loved to pump through her Ipod was loud enough to vibrate the foundation of the meat packing plant with the perfect name. S & M Meat.
Mixed with the smell of vampire ass was the distinct scent of cigarette smoke, booze and blood. Business by day, party by night. And, they were still easy to find. From the rooftop of the adjacent building he had spotted the glyphs marking the building with the high-tech binoculars Hedges had made. Infrared, thermal imaging ….. Whatever the situation called for. Hannibal had picked up the prototype off some Army lieutenant a few years back, woman could wear a uniform and dish out corporal punishment like it was no body’s business.
There was a pop as the bright pink gum he was chewing puffed up into a bubble and he chomped down on it bursting the bubble. Sucking it back into his mouth he did it again. Over and over he blew bubbles as he watched the comings and goings at the meat plant.
Folding the binoculars in half he tucked them into the bag that hung on his back. They were still a little bulky but Hedges had worked wonders making them a more practical tool.
“Get a new routine…” He mumbled. Meat processing plants. Warehouses. Sewers. Seriously. Get some new hang outs.
There was a door at the back and a door at the front. Each supplied with an over muscled meathead that barely knew their ABC’s. Two access panels on the roof. Perfect. Not a lot of places for the riff raff to escape.
Everyone inside, unless they were crying, glyph free and begging for their life, was going to die. It’s just the way it worked. God it felt good to have that separation. To not be one of them. He was the hunter, they were the prey, all was right in the world.
Once the crowd outside had all filtered into the building King got up and gathered his things. Time to go to work. The large rifle that was slung over his shoulder bumped against his back as he trotted down the stairs that had taken him to the roof. The gun on his hip jiggled as he ran, the stakes packed in his Kevlar vest caught the light of the exit sign. He wiggled his fingers into the fingerless gloves and cracked his knuckles.
At the front door of the meat packing plant there was a burst of flame as the bullets tore loose from Hannibal’s gun and hit his targets. He could have flashed his shiny tattoo and got in for free, but with the heat he was packing, that might have raised suspicions. Yes of course he wanted to dance.