the best first impressions.
Who: puttingonashow, americafuckyou, anyone else who would like to join in!
What: So a drugged up Russian mobster and an American CIA agent arrive in a city....and the mobster starts to kill people.
Where: Avasta Station, around the Business District in general
When: Morning
Rating: PG-13. Will update if the fighting gets at all graphic, though I doubt it will.
His heart raced as he made his way through the station, even as his body sluggishly fumbled along, as his eyes still adjusted to the suddenly too bright lights.
The people that woke him had been kind enough, in their way, trying to inform him that he was in safe hands, and explaining things he was sure he had been too groggy to follow completely. Fighting a war? Against serpents? With his own home in the balance, that was what they had told him before he'd been released. Pulling the leg of the man currently riding a comedown. But he Brayko had still been trying to regain his bearings and clear his head when they had suddenly ushered him out, and after being caught up in the bustle of people within the station proper, he wasn't sure he could find his way back to the strange dark room if he tried. And the longer he walked, the more he took in as that initial grogginess faded, the deeper his frown set in, heart never slowing.
This sure as hell didn't look like Leningradsky. That much was certain as he walked, became an increasingly distressing notion as the haze slowly left him. It didn't look similar to any place in Moscow, he realized, when he finally made it to the outside. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and the sights here, the smells, the people- he almost stepped back into the station, raked a hand through his partially bleached hair and grit his teeth, eyes widening a fraction as everything seemed to hit him, all in a rush.
Orders to serve and a claim of there being no way back home, without ridiculous, bullshit hoops to jump through.
Just how high did these people think he was?
No one told Konstantin Brayko what he couldn't do. What he had to do. For them. That wasn't how he and his boys operated.
The submachine gun was in his hand before Brayko realized he had actually moved. Was aimed at the back of the man closest to him - station security, city police, he didn't know - and released a sharp stutter of gunfire that tore through the man and dropped him to the ground. It was a mistake, stupid, but he was past caring, panic and fury overriding all other thoughts racing through his mind.
A second gun joined the first, just as another officer had started, began turning to him, and gunfire echoed again. This time, Brayko took off running before the man even had the chance to fall, expression infuriated and he needed to find whoever had brought him there, that was priority number one. Then his boys, and home.
He could make his own damn way home, even if he had to tear through half of creation to get there.
[[ OOC NOTE; And if anyone else would like to jump in to meet them, feel free a start a thread of your own and specify who if you'd like anyone specific! ]]
What: So a drugged up Russian mobster and an American CIA agent arrive in a city....and the mobster starts to kill people.
Where: Avasta Station, around the Business District in general
When: Morning
Rating: PG-13. Will update if the fighting gets at all graphic, though I doubt it will.
His heart raced as he made his way through the station, even as his body sluggishly fumbled along, as his eyes still adjusted to the suddenly too bright lights.
The people that woke him had been kind enough, in their way, trying to inform him that he was in safe hands, and explaining things he was sure he had been too groggy to follow completely. Fighting a war? Against serpents? With his own home in the balance, that was what they had told him before he'd been released. Pulling the leg of the man currently riding a comedown. But he Brayko had still been trying to regain his bearings and clear his head when they had suddenly ushered him out, and after being caught up in the bustle of people within the station proper, he wasn't sure he could find his way back to the strange dark room if he tried. And the longer he walked, the more he took in as that initial grogginess faded, the deeper his frown set in, heart never slowing.
This sure as hell didn't look like Leningradsky. That much was certain as he walked, became an increasingly distressing notion as the haze slowly left him. It didn't look similar to any place in Moscow, he realized, when he finally made it to the outside. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and the sights here, the smells, the people- he almost stepped back into the station, raked a hand through his partially bleached hair and grit his teeth, eyes widening a fraction as everything seemed to hit him, all in a rush.
Orders to serve and a claim of there being no way back home, without ridiculous, bullshit hoops to jump through.
Just how high did these people think he was?
No one told Konstantin Brayko what he couldn't do. What he had to do. For them. That wasn't how he and his boys operated.
The submachine gun was in his hand before Brayko realized he had actually moved. Was aimed at the back of the man closest to him - station security, city police, he didn't know - and released a sharp stutter of gunfire that tore through the man and dropped him to the ground. It was a mistake, stupid, but he was past caring, panic and fury overriding all other thoughts racing through his mind.
A second gun joined the first, just as another officer had started, began turning to him, and gunfire echoed again. This time, Brayko took off running before the man even had the chance to fall, expression infuriated and he needed to find whoever had brought him there, that was priority number one. Then his boys, and home.
He could make his own damn way home, even if he had to tear through half of creation to get there.
[[ OOC NOTE; And if anyone else would like to jump in to meet them, feel free a start a thread of your own and specify who if you'd like anyone specific! ]]