ICC- Kilrick Salvage Inc.

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*Inside vehicle*

(Eric winced as he slowly opened up his vest. "Jesus Christ remarked the man named Stryfe, you got real damn lucky there". Staring at the huge bruise on his chest, Eric thought nothing was more true.

"Well, you all can call me Eric. Since I had missed you guys earlier, I had to follow you guys to the Razor hideout. I couldn't say hello either when I got there because I don't take chances with minefields. Anyways, I am here because I hear Kilrick needs tough men for some job in scum york. "

"So what skills are ya bringing to the team", another stranger asked.

"I can tell you now I have no experience with the fancy gadgets you guys got. However, with my Desert Eagle and a good rifle like my M4 here,I will make any bastard who wants to kill us very sorry. Also, if you guys hook me up with a good sniper rifle, I can take out guys from a mile away. Very good when you need to eliminate guys the stealthy way.


"By the way, can any of you guys spare me a stim, I am in a good amount of pain here".
 
I looked at the new comer.

This crew was picking up new comers like a hungry dog picks up fleas.

I looked at the newcomer.

"Pain builds character."

Fuck, I had nothing cooler to say at the moment.

Well, we could always use another body.

"I'm Kilrick. I run Kilrick Salvage. Right now we're assembling a crew to go to NY, do a pick up and come back. The game is for 50K plus what ever you drag in with you. That 50K is currently under negotiation however, so we might be able to make more."

"50K, split how many ways?" He answered.

"By who ever comes home." I said.

Then I turned my attention back to the one leading us.

"So where are you taking us?"

It wasn't a trap I was worried about. I was thinking about getting back.

We had picked up the gear, now it was time to get back to the job.

And maybe I was thinking about the woman too.
 
IC:
A small stim appeared in Eric's hands. No words, nothing. What the boy decided to do with it was his business.

"To the door of Talon Cardias himself - The territory of the West Siderz Gunrunners... You know them. Polite, business-like... and well cool if the crew is cool. They run an old fort left from the pre-war times. We can stay there... They're neutral. Just keep your drugs away from the young ones and we'll live to go to New York...

To die there if it be so"

He got mixed glances, not sure what the expressions meant.

Stryfe was aware Kirlick may know Cardias and maybe even know her... Once again, Stryfe shielded his thoughts. One rule of a mercenary was to either have no weakness or hide all weaknesses. Maybe Kilrick knew her too?

Again, less they knew of Stryfe the better for him.

But little did Stryfe know, the Grey Captain that Stryfe dehanded knew Stryfe... Knew Stryfe well. He was Caleb Shillinger and he and Stryfe knew eachother all too well.

In this life, many men wanted Stryfe dead, Shillinger had more reason than most.


OOC: Dark Corp, know, in reality, my Stryfe wouldn't care much about Eric or anyones wounds... He may just give a blank stare or reply mildy, but nothing so dramatic... But worry not, I let it pass... The reason why I don't role play other people... Sorry if I sound like a bitch... Just read Stryfe's profile in the Character section... last page... you'll understand his character better. Sorry just old school habits.
 
*Enroute to GunRunner turf*

The vehicle was cramped and Eric did his best to get comfortable. The stim he had taken earlier had reduced the pain and speeded up the healing process. Although the occasional jolt gave him a headache, he was very thankful he was alive. As he lay there, Eric's mind began to focus on the gunrunners.

During his days on the payroll of the NAC, Eric had learned much. Whatever the goverment could not manufacture, they got from traders. Most caravans had guards with small arms and rifles along with leather and maybe even custom crafted metallic armor. One day however, a real bunch of hardasses came by.

This caravan had a large amount of men with combat armor and those fancy energy weapons. What made it more strange was the fact that the negotiations were not done through a Captain like usual, but through a certain Colonel named Greifswald. It was only later from certain people did he realise those guys had gunrunner connections.

As Eric dozed off, his last thoughts were about what he could get for his M4.

OOC: Don't worry about it. Eric generally believes that most peole wouldn't mind offering a fellow ally some help. However, he also quickly learns how to communicate with the silent ones as well. As to roleplaying others, I thought it might add more atmosphere to the story. As to rping other characters, I generally try to do dialogue only but if anyone is uncomfortable with it I will quit immediately.
 
West Siderz Gunrunners, the name told Aaron nothing. He knew what gunrunners did, of course, he'd even met a few, either as employers or as targets, but there were several such organisations. He just had to hope there was no connection between the West Siderz and the Eastern Canadian, since he had rather fallen out with the latter; most of his contracts were difficult, but his last one had turned out to be impossible. Ambitious men had traded him in for power, and he'd barely escaped with his life where many others hadn't.

Trust was in short supply for the hunted assassin. He wanted to stay alert while they were entering unknown territory, but he felt drowsy from his wound and the stimpack's chemicals running through his veins. He tried to make himself comfortable against the vehicle's jolting motion, closed his eyes for a second, and fell asleep.
 
50K.

Not enough. Not for a crew like this. But I knew the Major. Start low and negotiate up. I should demand 150 and we'd probably settle down to about 80K in the end.

I looked over at Stryfe. Still not sure of him, but then who can you trust these days.

"Tell me more about these people we're meeting"

He lifted his eyes, as if begging a question.

"Reasons are simple." I said. "50K is still too cheap and it's unwise to leave negotiations hanging open for long. Keeping them uncertain for a day might be to our advantage, but too much delay means they might go with another contractor."

"You're afraid of a little competition?" He said.

"Being concerned about competition is a survival instinct, so yeah, I'm concerned." I corrected.

He shrugged.

I was getting tired of speaking.

"I hope this is worth it. We got a job to do, and the sooner we start, the sooner we end it, and collect our little payment and move on. Delay is wasteful and might be expensive."
 
Stryfe nodded. "Take it of my share then, Kilrick if we are delayed..." Stryfe offered, actually meaning it. "We get to stay a night, heal up and face the worst... A day or two. Up to you Kilrick, after all, you run this outfit... Besides, I have something I must do first...

"Which would be?" Kilrick asked.

"Personal matter." Stryfe replied bluntly. " A man... before he dies must make his peace. And I'm sure you yourself wouldn't mind one days rest and perhaps a good meal before we all march off to our deaths. "

Kilrick gave him a quizzical look.

"What? You think we going to live through this?" Stryfe said as he guided the transport past the stone hills and burnt out wastes toward a long forgotten battle worn fort some eight clicks 0f an old highway.

****

As the crew drove further into the neutral territory, a land owned by the well mannered and well armed gunrunners, a certain silence held them all. Stryfe could feel the stillness, could feel eyes piercing his armor weave like a sniper's teflon coated bullet drilling towards the kill area. Of course, they all had every right to be jumpy. Their last moment of calm was interrupted by shelling.

"Relax." Was all Stryfe said as they headed across an old bridge and were, which was well maintained. Now they were coming to the crossing.

The sound of a river running could be heard among the small creak of steel and wood. Someone was coming... Or more likely sopme people were coming.

The small jingle of ammunition was herd as three figures walked towards the transport. Each man was armed with a heavy machine gun and adorned in heavy green combat armor.

"What business do strangers have in the Barrier?" A husky voice asked. It was clearly female. her eyes and hair and face hidden behind the helmet and visor she wore. "Well speak quickly or do I have to shot you all?"

Stryfe jumped out of the side of the car, arms raised in a sign of submission. "Its me, Lady West... Stryfe. I have come seeking an audience with Talon."

There was some chatter between the figures. Now a another figure stood foward, with an adorned helmet and as he walked forward to Stryfe, his features could be made out. He was a middle aged man with some scarring and a web like tattoo that was embellished on his face. His name was Tycho. He was Talon's eldest son.

"Been a while Stryfe. Kinda of thought you were some memory in the wasteland sands. Talon may have enjoyed that... but of course, Violin never believed that. Hmm, she'll be happy to see you." Tycho said, his face looked warm and soft for a man who could have endured such a intricate tattoo on his visage. He scracthed the back of his bald head as if something we digging into his flesh. His flash blue eyes watched the group of rag tag mercs. "So, who are the mercs... They're mercs right? I mean, the Chaos Bringer doesn't hang with nice folk now does he. No Offence intended lads." He smiled.

Stryfe jestured towards Kilrick. "He is the leader of this band I am with. I just brought them here to see your father."

Tycho nodded for a moment and twisted his neck around until it made an odd popping sound. "Hmm, from the look of you lot... you seem like you all were marching towards hell? But my pops you wanna see, fine. I see no problem dere.... Just keep your arms and hands safe...

And does your leader have a name?" Tycho looked to Kilrick.
 
I wasn't diggin this.

Never walk into a place that you don't know you can walk out of, not if you can help it.

This is what you get for letting someone else drive.

I looked at the decorated skull, then the chick with green armor and machine gun. I have to admit I have a thing for strong women. They make for better wrestling.

But I was on the job and time is money.

"Name's Kilrick. Run Kilrick Salvage. This is Jake, my partner" I send, looking at Jake. "The rest are free agents, coming along for the job."

"And the job is what?" Said the decorated skull.

"My business, not yours. It doesn't concern you." I thought about telling him that it was none of his fucking business, but I didn't want to appear impolite.

"We don't take easy to strangers. Why does it concern us?" Said the woman Stryfe had called Lady West.

"It doesn't. He," I said, looking over to Stryfe, "thought it would be a good place to get a warm meal and some medical supplies. We can trade or pay for it. You're call. Or we can take our business elsewhere."

The others were getting out of the vehicle. It had been a long road and they were stretching out their legs, cracking bones.

The guards of this place watched as the others got out. It was pretty clear what they were thinking.

There were more of us than there were of them.

I could see their hands on their weapons, and the way they shifted their weight.

Nervous. Feeling outnumbered.

This could get tense fast.

And that was bad business.

I flicked the bald one a coin I fished out from my pocket."We got credit, bullets and weapons. Looking to trade and not to fight. So ease up on the sphincter and lets talk business."
 
*Gunrunner territory*

Sensing the vehicle had stopped, Eric awoke from his nap and stepped outside into the hot sun. As he looked around, his eyes quickly focused on a good looking woman, fully equipped with combat armor.

Eric long had a fascination with women who could handle themselves in a fight. It showed courage, self-confidence and initiative. "If we manage to get through the damn place alive, I just may try to hook up with one of their gals". The thought intrigued him but he quickly removed it from his mind. One wrong step in this new world and you just might meet your end a bit earlier than expected.
 
Aaron awoke to the sound of voices outside the stopped vehicle. It took him a minute to fight the drowsiness and become fully alert of the surroundings: undoubtedly an after-effect of the stimpack's strong chemicals, but not good for an assassin. Kilrick & Stryfe were locked in heated conversation with three heavily armed men, and the other mercenaries were hanging around with affected casualness.

"So we've reached Gunrunner territory then." With his dusty grey cloak wrapped around him, Aaron might well have passed unnoticed from the guards. They weren't paying much attention to the vehicle since it wasn't a threat in itself. He didn't know how this confrontation was going to turn out, and if the worst came to the worst, Kilrick's group could do worse than enjoy the benefit on an unexpected backup, so the ghost stayed inside, out of sight, and hopefully out of mind.
 
TJ was in the bed of the truck, casually smoking a cigarrete, already half-ash. He looked tired and dirty, but still capable of required tasks. He reached for something in his pack, and pulled out a magazine. It was a Playboy mag. from the ancient time. He read it. Actually he looked, forget reading.
 
Tycho grabbed the coin and checked both sides. "Hmm, well it wouldn't be polite of us now to refuse trade now would we? After all, this desloate land was founded on trade. Well, Kilrick, it's okay by me. Just follow us, keep to the path and you'll be on your way."

Lady West regarded Stryfe and Kilrick for a moment and tapped the M60 against her shoulder blade. Grabbing the handle bar, she hoisted herself aboard. "I'll take a ride with you all. If you don't mind." She said as she hoped aboard. West was assertive, and she made sure these band of 'men' knew it.

If Kilrick had objections he seemed to swallow it.

Stryfe got on board and made room to sit as they followed Tycho and the other guard up a lonely dusty road that seem to strecth like a path into forever, which was equally surrounded by a wasteland that seemed to strecth out into all directions to hell. It was a bare field, some small stones and radiated plant life, but in all desolate and barren.

"No one comes through here." Lady West said to the group.

"Easy... Minefield... The biggest minefield known." Stryfe finished.

Kilrick simply shrugged, but he couldn't help smile at the Runners ingenuity. No one could ever simply march into their territory without being torn apart.

****

Five minutes later... Within...

"Welcome..." An elderly but sturdy voice spoke in clear english. Blue eyes and a mane of long black and silver hair hung down from his head, he had a full beard and mustache which was neatly trimmed. Adorned in a light combat armor suit. Before him sat four children. Two dusty blonde haired girls, a black haired boy and one fiery red head. They were his grand children. "So... what brings the Dark Pilgrim... and Kilrick Salavage and company here? Not often we have guests so forgive me." He gave a cold smile, which was directed at Stryfe.

He rose from the great chair and walked toward them, standing taller and firmer than men of his age did. He was fit and his flesh healthy, not diseased or riddled with liver spots. The clear blue eyes never seem to dull as they capture everyone into his scope. From Eric, to Aaron, to Remmington and TJ... and Reik.

"I see you met my son Tycho... and my neice... Lady West... and you know my accursed son in law... Stryfe." He jestured to his lieutenants and to Stryfe he gave a mocking gaze.

Stryfe remained unmoved. Talon merely gave a lopsided smile. "I was kidding Stryfe... Kidding. Besides, Violin wouldn't forgive me if I did mean it." The older man's face sobbered.

Rama still remained the same.

"Somethings never change. Sorry for the Kilrick... Family matters. So.. what can I do for you and your crew... Or more over, what can I do for you?"

A door opened and a woman and a small child emerged from within. The woman was slender and light brown with haunting brown eyes and her child, which she held by the hand had brown skin and haunting green eyes and smooth hair.

"Stryfe..."

"Violin."
 
OCC- RS- this is basically your side quest so you will have to lead here. Also I suggest that you put some of your ideas on the OCC so the others know what you are up to.

ICC-
I watched the woman and the child.

I had been thinking about the vibe between this old man and Stryfe.

Something wasn't feeling quite right.

THen I saw her. Ahhh.... a woman.

I should have seen this. It's usually a woman.

Fuck.

Nothing like the smell of quiff to make man's mind turn to mush.

It didn't take much guessing but I figured the child was Stryfe's.

So it's another telling of Love in the Wastelands.

Like some fucking Holographic romance I had seen back at the vil.

But that one had more skin and action than this one was promising.

In fact from the vibe I was getting, this seemed like it might be leading to one of those old Western shoot-outs. You know the kind where almost everyone ends up in the dust, leaking from numerous bullet holes.

I glanced over at Stryfe but he was watching the girl.

Oh lordy lord.

These young ones do take propagating the species so seriously.

I was feeling tempted to let well enough alone. This wasn't my affair and It would be better not to be dragged in.

If Stryfe had brought us in just to get this girl out, than I had reason to be annoyed.

Such a move against types like this could lead to blood.

Fighting over women was too common in the wastes, and clans took protecting their own seriously. So if that was his plan, it could lead to a lot of those Western shoot out bodies laying in the dust, leaking red. Since one of those bodies might be mine....

Well, I wasn't in the mood to die right now and least over a bit of quiff I hadn't the pleasure to have tasted.

Then again Stryfe was part of my crew, and a crew that doesn't stand up for it's own isn't worth shit. So if it got bloody, we'd go into it together.

That's not always the smart move, but the smart move isn't always the right move. You got to do what's right, and that included standing up with your men.

Doing else had no honor.

If you got no honor, might as well be down there with the dogs.

ANd I don't like to eat shit.

So if this came down to blood shed, we'd stand.

Beside, I could shoot him later.

I looked back at the old dude. It looked like the old timer was raising his own clan. Probably good for the muscle tone. So maybe this fucking around was all quite kosher.

I whispered back to the others, "Everyone behave yourselves."

Then I turned back to the old boss.

"I'm Kilrick, of Kilrick Salvage. And I run a clean shop. Do right by me, and I'll do right by you. Fair dealing is my code."

The old man nodded. "I have not heard anything to dispute that. Oh, except from Spengler."

"Spengler is competition." I said.

"So I gathered, and thus his word is woth piss on a dead tree to me." Said the old man.

"I'm here for a bit of business. Some medical supplies, a hot meal, some bunks from me and my men. We'll be moving off tomorrow. We got either currency or hardware for trade. Up to you. Or if you like we will move on and wish you good fortune."

The old man nodded. "We have supplies to trade."

"And we have guns."

Lady West had moved back and was investigating the stock of boxes in the back of the cab. "I have seen these marks. O'Neil and the Razors. Their stock."

"Used to be." I said. "They're out of business and we got these at a discount."

Lady West looked at the others, noticed their wounds. Then she came to me and and took my hand. She lifted it high so that it was head level with both of us. SO that everyone could see that my hands had powder burns. So they could see that I had recently fired my weapons.

She looked over to the others, so they all could see it too.

Then she let my hand drop and said. "Indeed. Were they a competitor or a business partner." Mocking me.

"Neither. O'Neal did me a wrong turn once and it was time to pay up." I said, looking at her in the eyes. Hard, uncompromising.

"Payback?" Said the old man.

"Payback is a bitch." I said.

Edit- some minor edits here.
 
"Agreed. Too bad it couldn't be like old times when you could sue a competitor... Of course, my Father before was like that... Competition was liquidated. Much like, you, young and hungry. Sadly he got old and retired. But I am not as ruthless, but I will flatten any of those who would threaten us." Talon said as he looked at Violin and Stryfe, and for a moment, the age in him seem to grow.

He leaned closer to Kilrick. "Don't think I hate Stryfe... I dislike him... not hate him. I just worry for her and my grand child... his son. And deep down I wish he'd settle down. But men like him... well, you know the type. All they can do is fight and they are always hunted. And I see he came to say good bye. You're going to New York, right?" He sighed.

Kilrick merely nodded his head, not too anxious to get involved in the blood-is-thicker-than-water-vibe.

"So, please... Kilrick. You may stay. Hot meals, and some medical will be provided. Lady West and Tycho will show you around. Buy what you like, enjoy your time and perhaps we can help each other.

Don't be a stranger."
 
I smiled at Talon. The old guy was alright.

"Sometimes the young don't realize the importance of living. But to expect wisdom for the young is perhaps asking much. That's something acquired only with age." I said.

Talon smiled, and nodded. "Indeed. It is so. It is good to be a wolf, to be strong and hungry, powerful and lean. But it is better to be an older wolf, stronger perhaps for the age, and wise enough to lead."

"Are all of these family?" I asked.

Talon smiled and his hand swept over his children. "My children, yes. But not all here are kin. Some are like you, passing by and doing a bit of business before going elsewhere."

I called back to the others to trade what they could for medical supplies, that we would need them. I also reminded them that we could only bring what we carried. The vehicle was a luxury, but as such, it might be shot out from under us.

Then I turned back to Talon. "I have to admit you caught me by surprise. How did you know about New York?"

"It's good to have ears elsewhere. A matter of business."

"Do you know why we are going to New York?" I asked.

"Don't you?" Talon asked. Then seeing that I didn't he laughed. I was about to speak when he said. "I understand. YOu have been hired by the Greens to collect something. Yes, I have heard this. But what? I don't know."

Maybe he was lieing, and maybe he knew more. But I wasn't about to pry it out of him. Besides, I felt pretty confident we would find out sooner than latter.


OCC- Rama- while I think the color scheme works fine with the dialogue to signify dialogue, I think it would be better to stay away from darker colors that might not stand out behind the black background.

ALso you might want to provide a bit more background so the other players can get a better visual about the rest of the story.

Last bit- how many vehicles. I wasn't sure either- one or two. Doesn't matter. They won't last forever.
 
IC:

In the main court yard, were some souped up humvees, military grade with a machine gun turret on the back. Men and women and children walked about minding their business, drinking a beer or just shooting the breeze among the small open shops and work benches where techs worked tiresly on weapons.

The yard was large, surrounded by an even thicker wall which had four guard towers and barb wire as far as the eye could see. Men and women in green combat armor with long range rifles marched up and down, keeping a close eye to the vast wastelands that closed on them from every corner.

Within the walls of the fort were five buildings. Two larger ones made up residence and storage were old hangers and storage bays which were cleverly refurbished to accomadate guests and family. Which this clan of Gunrunners turned out to be.

Where Kilrick and his gang were citied was within the main bunker which was three stories tall and well surrounded by guard stations.

The other buildings were small work shops and residential areas. The last building was a garage for vehciles, mostly light armored scouters and hummers. A busted tank which was still being repaired lay their gathering rust.

The huge iron gates were shut. And north east from the gate was a bar called the Red Corner. A neatly kept establishment which seemed out of place considering the place was a pre-war weapon storage and manufacturing facility.

Within the compound was a lower lift level which had a car key scanner and blast doors. This led to the heart of the facility where certain weapons were manufactured as well as a recharging bay to recharge Micro Fusion cells.

It was a neat operation. And that is what Talon liked, his neat operation.

****

"A word of advice Kilrick, since you are clearly a man who respects his elders..." Talon said, "what you are looking for commands a high price. To be honest, I only know rumors... Many menw alk into New York expecting to get rich... they only come out dead. Stryfe went there... barely survived too. That place claimed four of my own children and many others... I just hope what you seek is worth it." The smile came again.

"But life is risk... and who knows, you may all pull it off." Talon turned a glance at his daughter and sighed. "Why don't you send your men to the bar, drinks on us... and we talk some more."



OOC: Better Welsh?
 
OCC- Better- Is it possible to do whatever you plan to do with this part of the story in a single game "day"? I think Kilrick will be thinking about getting back to continue the job to New York.

ICC- I nodded. "We appreciate your courtesy and look forward to drinking to your health."

Then I turned to the others. "You heard the man. But remember, you are under their rules and we will be mindful that we are guests."
 
*Gunrunner Camp*

After hearing what Kilrick had to say, Eric moved towards a small weapons shop run by a man in olive colored fatigues.

"Well hello mister, the names Bob. Your in luck too because I need to make room for some new shipments and I will sell anything you see here at a 25% discount".

No surprise, the man had everything a mercenary or army would need. M24 SWS, Dragunov SVD, even a Barret M98, all damn good sniper rifles. The man also had an assortment of assault rifles ranging from pre-war AK47, M16, to the somewhat newer XM8 and XM29.

"I need the M24 and 2 clips of 7.62mm. What I am offering is one M4A1 assault rifle and 3 clips of magnum ammo hp rounds."

"Normally I would need a bit more but hey, it is discount day. Tell ya what, throw in an extra clip of magnum rounds and we'll call it a done deal."

"Agreed", replied Eric. The two men quickly exchanged weapons and ammunition. "Mighty fine doing business with ya. Make sure you tell some of your friends about me ya hear?"

"Don't worry about it Bob, I will." With some long range punching power, Eric all of a sudden felt a lot better.
 
Aaron was a careful man, it went with the job, be it guarding or assassination, and currently he felt uneasy: information on Kilrick's outfit had leaked - not unexpected, but whatever was worth 50K to the Greens might be worth even more to someone else -. The last Gunrunners he'd seen were dead, very obviously so: payback for treason. Nobody had recognised him for now, but the feeling would not go away - someday they would find him -.

That's what the cash was for, a golden opportunity despite the risks to be able to afford supplies to move south, down to Texas, then west to California, like the stories he'd read in pre-war books when he was younger.

As the group began to disperse, he called out: "Eh, Reik! Fancy a drink?"
 
The Last time....

Talon guided Kilrick to his main office. "Come, Kilrick, we have much to discuss.... As Stryfe and my daughter have much to discuss. I will tell you what you may need to know and in return you may grant an old man one favor..."


UPSTAIRS

"Its been five years.... How've ya been?" Violin asked, breaking the silence between them. She of all people knew Stryfe's emotionless facades and learned never to take his cold moods personal.

"I've been on the move... Killing... travelling... Keeping you and Armand safe..." Stryfe said finally, his face seeming to soften in her prescense. Of all people he'd show weakness to he'd do it for her. After all, she gave him life when his had nearly been spent. It was Violin who pulled him out of the war torn New York as Stryfe had struggled to leave the bourders, broken, bleeding.

The Red Violin took a seat near Stryfe and removed his armor, exposing the bronze flesh beneath weapons and protection. Her hand ould feel the surface of old battle wounds and than she could feel his own hand on top of hers. Years had passed theys aw each other... but in her heart she knew Stryfe was alive. Even when they had parted five years ago, she knew. Despite the horrors that lay beyond their boardes, she always believed he'd return.

"I always loved you... Violin. But I can't stay... Not like this. There is much going on... and I have to return."

"For what!? to get your ass killed? To die like your brother and my brothers? Why?" She said, her face livid with rage.

"Because... I must. I have to go there and find out why we were marched out their to our deaths. Why did Sharku and your kin die for? There is no turning back." Stryfe adjusted the clip within the Desert Eagle and and pushed it back in with a slap. "That is why I came to say good bye."

Violin couldn't hold back a tear. "I... I know... Funny of all the men... Why you? even now I don't understand... Why you? Shillinger and Sugarman will kill you if they find out you're heading back to New York... We barely escaped the last time... and you know they don't forget... or forgive."

"I have to settle up with them as well. Either way... I must go and finish what I started. I owe it to Talon and I owe to you and my son." Stryfe replied solomly.

"Well, Stryfe... One thing I learned from you is that stubborness is a powerful ally." She smirked, before planting a kiss on his lips. "Come back to me... alive. Come and see your son. He hasn't seen you for so long... and we could be a family."

"I promise... If I live through this, I will return here."

"Good enough for me."
 
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