Closed RP Corner Pocket (Pittsburgh)

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Ricochet

Ricochet

New member

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Pittsburgh- 10:41 PM​

It had been some time since he had been in the states. The increase in the costumed hero population meant these types of jobs came with a failure to complete cost that most weren't willing to pay. He had been half hoping nobody would end up paying it so he could stay the hell out of the halloween town that was vigilante culture. Every once in awhile though he got a client who shattered that dream.

The target was some former top dog in the Russian Mafia who had left his, very rich, bosses daughter at the altar to run away with a rivals daughter he had met in the US. Real Romeo and Juliet stuff. 'Story always ends the same way, you think these types would catch on.' he thought as he peered through the scope on his pool cue. He was eight buildings away. Eyes locked onto a laundromat; Suds & Things. "Shit name" he muttered under his breath.

Intel said the guy was getting cover from the Shining Light Triad. Sadly for him they weren't that good at keeping him hidden. He at his watch then shifted his scope down the street. A black car turned onto the road.

"Bingo"

He rolled a pool ball, a bright green 6, in his hand. The client had requested that number specifically. It was how many years this guy and his daughter had been together. Fingers danced across its polished surface leaving faint magical symbols in their wake. 3 accelerates and a pierce. It was the standard for this range. He gently positioned the projectile in the air and took his shooting stance. Eyes locked onto the car.
"15 seconds. 6 ball, right temple. "
His pool cue slid back and forth letting him get a feel for just how much power he would need. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. The car pulled to a stop. The front doors opened. Two men stepped out, neither were his target. One opened the door to the laundromat. The other opened the rear right passenger side door. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. The target emerged. The first guys body was in the way. Deep breath in. The pair moved around the car. CRACK The ball ripped through the air, accelerating to the speed of a bullet, ready to punch a hole clean through the right temple.
 
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A bullet ripped through the air. It shot cleanly toward it's target, until, at the last second, it collided with something in midair. Sulphur peered through his sniper's sights, frowning. Whatever his bullet had hit had shattered. Judging by its trajectory, it was likely intended to hit his target, a former Russian mobster who Obsidian had assigned the hit on as part of their growing relations with another group. Whatever it was, it was gone now, shattered by the force of his bullet. The pieces sprayed around the target, who looked around in panic.

Well, that was going to make this hard. He quickly racked the gun, loading another bullet into the chamber of his Sako TRG M10, training the gun on the target. He was moving quickly, his guards trying to shuffle him back into the car. Lucky for Sulphur, he didn't seem to be heading their warnings, and was being quite difficult as he insisted on looking around. He wasn't going to find where the sniper was, more than twelve buildings away. Sulphur took in a breath.

In the time it took him to breathe in, he started making the calculations. He accounted for the wind, for the height and the angle, for the motion. He accounted for the bodyguards moving around in his way. And he patiently waited another three seconds, at which point he had come to the conclusion that they would have moved into the perfect angle for him to take another shot.

Hopefully whatever that object from before was had just been a fluke. If another miss occurred, this was going to end up being a chase, and that was going to be an issue. From his position, he'd be able to fire about four blocks before they got away from him in any direction with the height of the building. He let his breath out, and on the exhale Crack. He fired his second shot, aiming once again for the man's head, this time aligning right with his left eye, in what would be an instant kill shot.​
 

"Mother Fu-" He ducked down when the gunshot rangout. Had they hired protection? Did someone just purposely hit his shot out of the air? No, not possible, he had covered his tracks. Someone else was after his mark. Normally not much of an issue. You just issue the client a refund. The problem was he had already spent the refundable portion of the downpayment on this nice new scope & the non-refundable part wouldn't be enough to cover it. He conjured another pool ball and took aim again. Four accelerate sigils this time, hoping to be faster than whoever he was having a shoot off with.

The target wasn't making it any easier standing there swiveling his head like a snipers choose your own adventure game. "You're supposed to run when you're getting shot at moron." His body guards were moving to rush him into the building. He calculated the distance, he'd have to bank this one off of a nearby lightpost to get around the human shields doing their best to cover someone with the survival instincts of a lemming. A shot through the eye would work though. He took the shot.

CRACKPING CRASH

His pool ball exploded right in front of the targets face sending shards of resin into his eyes. He ducked down and his body guard rushed him into the laundromat. If they didn't rush him into the car they definitely believed this spot was fortified enough to hold off any would be assassin.
"He did say any means necessary." He started his traversal towards the building. Careful to avoid staying in one place too long incase his would be rival got any funny ideas.

 
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Well that was unfortunate, wasn't it? Sulphur smiles softly to himself as he quickly disassembled his sniper rifle and placed it neatly back into the altered guitar case that he used to hide it. He was going to have to close in on foot. And whoever he was competing with likely had a head start, as they seemed to be closer than he was. So he was going to have to book it if he wanted to get there first.

And he did want to get there first. After all, this was a game now. Whoever was the best would get the kill, and they'd get to walk away knowing they'd completed the job. His competition was certainly interesting as well. If he hadn't been mistaken, what he had seen through his scope was most definitely a pool ball, and not another bullet. But it had all the speed and impact of a bullet, which meant he was likely dealing with another metahuman.

While he wasn't like Malachite had been– just thinking of his lost brother made his soul twinge in anger and pain– who'd had a fondness for fighting other metas and testing his mettle against them, Sulphur did enjoy when he encountered one who put up a good fight against him. And one who could potentially match his aim and his abilities with projectiles? That was as good a game as any.

He supposed it would be good to let this other assassin know that this was a game now. He had no way to really let him know, though, so hopefully whoever it was figured it out over time. Maybe as long as he didn't aim for them, they would put two and two together and get four. Of course, the amount of people who seemed incapable of doing that astounded Sulphur. He seemed to live in a world full of the incapable.

He started to hightail it down the stairwell, making his way toward the shitty laundromat. He kept moving, not stopping for too long in any one place. He didn't want this opponent getting any funny ideas about maybe turning those magic pool balls against him. As he moved, he pulled his hand gun from its holsters under his arm, a Dan Wesson DWX that he cared for on a daily basis. It was his preferred firearm in closer quarters. He cracked his neck with a sharp crick before he started to close in on the building, keeping an eye out for any unusual movement.​
 


From an alleyway next to the building he spotted someone approaching, weapon drawn. He looked to be around his own age and all too normal. Kind of made him feel overdressed given the difference in their appearance. Much more traditional assassin garb from him but, with a distinct fire in his eyes that only someone in their line of work could recognize. The eyes of a man who could take a life and in that same breath lock away the look of a dying man deep within his mind.

He shot a ball past his head. Clearly not meant to hit its target. It was the type of shot that said 'I know where you are and the next one won't miss if you try anything'. The ball stopped in the air about two feet behind Sulphur.

He formed another in his hand and leveled his pool cue to shoot it if need be. "That's my mark in there, client already sent me the down payment."

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The ball whizzed past his head with an audible whirling sound. Sulphur ducked back behind his cover, clicking the safety off his gun as he listened to the other man talk. He'd gotten a good look at him. The man was dressed quite… ostentatiously. For an assassin, he was certainly not hiding very well. But maybe that was part of his whole deal. After all, the pool balls were a highly specific choice of weapon as well.

"Paid for and everything? My, you certainly have a situation then, don't you?" His voice rang out, neutral in tone, his voice somewhere in the mid-range in terms of pitch. There might have been just a hint of a smile backing it. "Seems to me, we're at an impasse. While my employer expects me to be the one to put a hole through that man's head, you have already received a payment. We could make this interesting."

While Sulphur spoke, he pulled a compact mirror from the inside of his suit jacket, his gloved hands flipping it open with ease, the magnetic clasp opening with minimal fuss. He tilted it until he could see the edge of the other man's outline. If he wasn't agreeable to making this a game, one in which the best would win, then he would have to deal with the fact that the man seemed more likely to kill him than let him complete his job. Having eyes on him certainly helped.​
 


'The little twerp thinks he's better than me?' was the first thought that ran through his mind. He had been a prodigy his whole life. His metahuman aspect let him learn at a pace that left natural talent in the dust. When your whole life is spent surpassing your peers you tend to develop a lot of a ego. Was it smart to take him on, no. Was there a fairly large chance he wound up with a bullet in his back, yes. Did he care, see the former.

"There's probably about 25-30 guys in there," he didn't lowered his pool cue, "you think you can handle that kind of heat then consider it a game. If you get to him before me I'll even buy you a drink."

 
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