|| VOICE
(english, japanese)
[his voice is quieter and more stiff than usual, but steady; he's obviously out of breath, but there are no other changes]
Heh. It's been a fuck of a while, hasn't it?
[low laughter blends with the shrieking cackles of approaching Heaven Smiles, drowned in a deafening stutter of gunfire]
Head. [BANG] Legs. [BANG,
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Read more... )
Still, he was tired, body sore from lack of rest and a few close calls too many. But most of all he was worried.
Three left. Not nearly enough.
Sighing, he slumped down in a chair. He'd figure something out, he always did.
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A movement further down - too dark to see what or who it was, but it didn't seem like a monster. Cocking the revolver, Ocelot casually stepped out into the hallway.
"Hold it."
((ooc: I think you got it right... we could just assume Ocelot didn't notice him, if that makes things easier. augh confusion~ ALSO I assume the hallways are pretty dark, since iirc there's no power there.))
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Relaxed slightly at the sound of a human voice; he hadn't heard the fuckers speak yet.]
--Whoa. I'm human, and so are you. We're good.
[That being said, he didn't lower his guns. The guy's voice had at least sounded familiar, but there was more than one psycho in the city at present.]
OOC || \o/ and yeah hallways are a stumbling hazard. ): BITS OF SMILES AND STUFF.
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"You sure about that..? Who are you?"
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[He took the time to try and get a better look at the other guy--the face wasn't familiar, but that wasn't saying much. Somebody he'd spoken to over the communicators, then, recently and while said person had been in the Police Station.
That narrowed it down.]
Name's Mello. Not that it'll ring any bells, I guess. But--I'm pretty sure I've talked to you over the comms sometime tonight.
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The name didn't ring any bells but the voice did. They had talked earlier that night, a conversation littered with gunfire. If Ocelot's memory served him right Mello was one of the more reasonable voices on the network, far from the hysterical cries that had streamed from the communicator the past few days.
He lowered the revolver. Not a threat. Not yet.
"Didn't think you'd drop by so soon."
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[He reciprocated the gesture when the man put his gun down, though. Yeah, this was the guy, and he'd seemed all right from what Mello had seen of him on the network over the past few weeks.]
Heh. Not much progress going on out there, though it's hard to tell right now. [He cocked an eyebrow and switched tacks.] So who're you?
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Rank didn't hold much weight here, but it gave him an identity, a label. Something for others to focus on so he could keep on doing his work without all too many questions asked.
Giving Mello another quick glance, he gave the revolver a spin before returning it to the holster.
"Been in town long?"
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[Glavnoje Razvedyvatel'noje Upravlenije. He hasn't been back to Russia in living memory, but intelligence being the game both at Wammy's and in L.A.... you kept track of these things.
Might be useful, in fact, even here--especially with the satellite now on their hands.
The only emotion he betrays in the end is a raised eyebrow at the gun flourishing.]
Feels like a year, but it's been more of a month. Yourself?
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Nothing but casual conversation, but under that cover he kept an eye on Mello. Information was vital and from what he could remember from Mellos previous posts the man had his fair share of it. Question remained if he would be willing to share somewhere down the line.
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