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RP: Bounty Hunts [Bounty Hunts] Prologue - Meet the Hunters

Scot

Scot

Inactive Member
“And now for local breaking news!”

A male black haired news reporter stood in front of a building that looked to be a castle of metal complete with walls, towers, and a flag on the top waving the Nepleslian flag. The reporter was wearing a green suit with black pants with a round button of the Neo Aio News Network on the left collar of his suit.

“I am here at the government building, just after Mayor Carpenter's speech. The speech focused on rumors surrounding the kidnapping of Rin Carpenter saying that everything was under control. This reporter wonders if this was so then why the need for a 50 thousand KS bounty for her safety. It is unknown who has done the kidnapping or if they have more motivation than just to blackmail the Mayor, but it's just another string of unfortunate instances for New Aio, Kohana's only civilization.”

------

Samantha Wong has found a lead to a seedy tavern, “Greased Wind,” a popular hangout for bounty hunters and criminals alike. When Sam walks in everything stops as everyone takes a glance at the door and a few seem to be ready to arm themselves, only to seem disappointed when it isn't their personal devil and return to gambling away their drinking expenses.

The decor was simple Nepleslian style with tables and chairs made of wood and spare metal as a sign of a low budget. The beer was also crap here, and only by reputation kept the local law enforcers away was enough for most of the residents to come here.

On a wall is a holograph display displaying the recent bounties, the latest ones naturally was for Rin Carpenter's wellbeing. Ms. Wong came in search for the leader of a small time gang that could have been responsible for the kidnapping of Rin Carpenter after a reliable source pointed out that he likes to hang out here and is part of a gang of mowhawks. His name was Roger Mittens, a man unfortunate enough to have a mother who decided to use her maiden name when her son grew up with no father. You identified him sitting at a table with his gang of mohawk buddies, with himself being bald. They wore black jackets and pants an looked to be in their twenties or thirties playing cards.

“Seems like I win again!” stated goon number 2 as he headed for the pile.

Only to be greeted with a gun, “Nah just kiddin'” goon number 1 joked pulling the gun back, “Say boss, when is our next job? I think I lost most of it tonight.”

“What are ya? Stupid?” Asked the bald Roger as he slammed the table with his right hand that also sent some coins flying, “We barely got that chick an' you askin' for anothda? Hell no! We almost got caught man! What if some bounty hunter decided to sniff around here!” The baldy then glanced left and right forgetting where he was and gave a sigh of relief when there was no answer.

-------

Dimitri Rogues was on his way to the “Coin Love Casino” to gather information on his next bounty when he became hopelessly lost in the back alleys of New Aio. He heard a scream of a woman and decided to check it out.

Four or six Mohawk Nepleslian punks dressed in black biker like attire are harnessing a very nice looking Yamatain woman. Dimitri recognized the gang from a rumor that they may have played a part in the kidnapping of the little girl he was looking for. The punks had blue Mohawk with black vests with the sleeves ripped off and black baggy pants. The woman had a red kimono with yellow flowers and sandals worn, her kimono is a bit ruffled and was obvious what the intent of the Mohawk punks was. The leader had a crescent shaped scar on the right cheek and was actively harassing the woman.

“Kehehe, come on woman, or it gonna hurt more than it feels good!” said the annoyingly higher pitch creepy voice as he approached the woman, with his gang behind him cheering him on.
 
Taking a seat at the bar, Sam turned about on her ratty little bar stool and casually surveyed the room. She made herself comfortable, leaning back against the counter, elbows back, upon the nicked and pitted surface that had likely seen countless drinks served across it. The professional bounty hunter wore her full kit, both pistols, the Daos and her Styrling Vest. A lower profile might have been wise, though; this was her first real foray into the dark underbelly of New Aio and she’d come prepared. Given some of the other patrons appeared to be bounty hunters themselves, Sam didn’t feel too terribly conspicuous.

Gazing up at the holo display upon the wall, then to her left, she found the bartender busy with other patrons. Ms. Wong wasn’t in any rush, the rather inebriated cop from the night before had commented on the mediocre booze at the Wind and Sam wasn’t exactly a beer drinker to begin with. Though she didn’t plan on putting that bit of his information to the test, she was pleased to see he had been correct about the distinguished Mr. Mittens, who now sat across the room with his greasy band of thugs.

Fortunately, it seemed Mittens had his back turned toward her, but the other thugs had a better view of the establishment. However, they seemed more interested in their game than the small, heavily armed woman on the bar stool watching them out of the corner of her eye. Fifty-K KS was quite the nice payoff, ‘Of course, I’ll take that in DA’, Sam thought, hoping a conversion wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. All in all, the cash wasn’t chief amongst her concerns, it would take quite a sick bastard to target a young child and Sam would be relieved, reward or no, as long as the Mayor’s daughter was returned safely. ‘That’s what counts, this isn’t just another bounty, there’s an innocent life on the line,’ she thought, glancing nonchalantly over at the Mohawked cretins.

‘Though, hell, if Mister Mayor hasn’t got the sense to keep his daughter safe with these animals on the prowl the fella must be a real sack of…’ Sam stopped, focusing her attention upon the gang as one fellow made to claim the pile of coins they’d been playing with. She watched as another drew a weapon briefly, but it appeared there would be no escalation. ‘Unfortunate, I could use something like that’, the bounty hunter thought, noting the armed man. It was more than likely the lot of them were packing heat, after all.

A brief outburst by Mittens kept Sam listening closely, but she lit her eyes upon the holo display instead. As far as Sam could determine, her best chance was simply to wait. ‘Can’t really play the tough-girl act and start kicking over tables in here, would rather not get anyone else involved,’ she thought, scanning the room with a bored gaze. ‘Guess I’ll just have to wait and see what Mittens dose, his move now, I suppose.’ Sam figured she could try a stealthy approach and get the muzzle of her Zen .45 up against the back of the gangbanger’s neck before he or his pals could really react, but.. then what? No, for now, she would wait and watch for an opportunity. Perhaps, if she waited long enough, Mittens would take a trip to the can, she could slip in after him if no one else was around and beat the information out of him. ‘That could work,’ Sam thought, quickly formulating a plan, ‘Poor little “Yamataian” girl can’t read Nepleslian, walks into the men’s room by accident,’ she thought, smirking and shaking her head.
 
"Hey guys, what's the occasion?!" Dimitri made his way towards the group with both hands in his pocket, smoking his usual cigarette as he walked into the alley. "You usually don't rape victims normally, am I right? You've all obviously got all the women you need on your own thanks you to your looks and charisma. No need to force yourselves onto 'em like you can't get girls on your own, or am I wrong?"

The snarky comment was loud enough for the punks to hear it. Luckily not all of them would be able to fight him, one of them would have to hold the girl to stop her from running, so he was looking at a 3 vs 1 fight. Nothing too hard to handle. "Cuz if I am, that's kinda sad. Might as well go back to prison, right? Easy to get laid there, wasn't it?"

Dimitri stopped about a yard or two from the nearest punk, standing there and looking at them with a small frown on his face. He was hoping none of them had guns, but if they did he had his own... but he wasn't much of a quick draw. Not with his gun, anyway. He was much faster at disarming opponents with guns than taking out his own.
 
Suddenly there was a clash sound, “Ya damn broad! Ya spilled it all over me!”

Apparently the waitress accidentally dropped Mr. Mittin's drink and the gangster was not to happy. He grabbed the poor girl's uniform and pulled her in front of him, “This is my favorite outfit ya bitch! Wanna know why? This one gots no bullet holes and that means it's special! Now I gotta cleans it so what are you gonna do about it?”

“I...I...m sorry...” she replied meekly.

Meanwhile the bar continued on as nothing happened, the barkeep was apparently distracted by a customer.


------------


The woman gave a sight of relief in hopes the man came to her rescue. She then sat up a little and tried to make herself more presentable by fixing her cloths and hair a little. After all the man saving her was much better looking than these hooligans, even if he was here to take advantage of her situation.

“What does it matter to you?” yelled the Mohawk leader “Buzz off if you know what's best for ya right guys?”

“You tell im' boss!”
“I doubt he even knows this chick.”
“Maybe we should teach this guy a lesson, eh boss?” which was punctuated by the sound of a chain falling to the ground, rattling as it moved with the goon that carried it.
 
"Heh." Dimitri smirked, his hands still in his pocket. "That's not a very convincing argument. You're supposed to prove me wrong, or at the very least say somethin in your defense...

...unless, y'know, I'm right." He turned his body to his left so that his right arm was facing the incoming goon. Chains? This was gonna be almost too easy...!
 
‘Hmm, what the hell!’ Sam thought, quickly rising from her bar stool. She’d made her decision, tossing out her earlier plans, the instant the waitress had dropped the drink and now she was committed. ‘Uncle Louis always said “There’s no reward without risk.”’ She approached the table at which her quarry sat; carefully moving as if she meant to pass by on her way to… whatever there was at the back of the bar. There seemed to be a hallway at the rear of the room and, Sam hoped the goons, if they were to notice her approach, would assume she was headed for the lady’s room.

She walked casually without haste, though, at her core, she was quivering with anticipation, primed like a bear trap ready to spring shut on an unsuspecting victim. Her right hand hovered over the Zen Arms “Little Killer” upon her belt, ready to draw the moment she was within range. Now only a few feet from Mr. Mittens and the poor, clumsy waitress, Sam spun on her heel, turning directly toward the gangster’s blind side and drew her weapon. She’d figured on drawing her .45, but reaching for the underarm holster would have taken too long and been far too obvious. At this range, the “Killer” would be effective enough and, if all went well, she wouldn’t have to fire a single shot.

Before Mittens could further berate the waitress, Sam jammed her “Killer” against the left side of his head, “Good afternoon, Mr. Mittens,” she said, keeping an eye on the cretins across the table, all now very aware of her presence, “I’d like you to put your hands flat on the table for me, please.” Hopefully the shock of her sudden appearance would keep the goons from doing anything stupid and risk her lasing their boss’s brains out. Waiting for her quarry to acknowledge her request and comply, Sam kept her left hand poised to pluck a throwing knife or two from her belt. A few other contingencies sprang to mind as well, as she stood ready to react at the slightest flinch.
 
“Don't shoot you idiots!” Mr. Mittins yelled while holding out his arms toward his people to prevent them from shooting. He knew the dangers of gunfire in the bar and was reason enough he himself didn't bring a gun, if a gun not pointed in point range went off the entire bar would turn them to swiss cheese.

The two Mohawks holding the sidearms thankfully lowered their weapons, and glanced at each other about what they should do.

With things under control, Mittins did what he was told and placed his hands on the table, he turned his eyes to the left and asked his capture, “Ok bitch, what you want from me?”




“Look who thinks he's a tough guy!” yelled out one of the goons as he flanked the stranger to the side.

Goon number two began approaching the stranger from the other side, “What is this guy stupid? Taken on the Mohawk gang one to five?” While he chuckled to himself he took the time to pull out a handle of a knife and flicked out the knife.

While his goons were getting ready, the crescent scared man just shrugged and scrached his head, “Why should we when we could kill any witnesses.” Then with a wave of the hand goon number 2 charged forward with his knife, soon followed by goon number 1 who then clicked his own knife and charged. The third goon with the chain would then slash his bike chain when he was in range.
 
Knives. That was considerably more challenging. Dimitri would step back a little, trying to position himself to a point where he could see both grunts aiming to flank him. Both of his hands were still in his pocket, of course, but now his feet had maneuvered themselves to a ready stance, heels almost not touching the floor.

When one of the goons began running after him, knives extended, he focused on the one that sprang to action first. Once goon #2, which was to his front, was near enough, he'd finally take his hands out of his pockets and move sideways, further back from the alley and let the man try to take a stab at him.

When the stabbing arm came towards him, which was probably the goon's right arm, he'd strike it in the blink of an eye with his left hand to deflect it, further to the goon's left, followed by a quick snap of his bionic arm aimed to the gang member's throat, which would hover just above the member's stabbing arm; inverse arms if the stabbing arm was the opposite. If he succeeded, he'd then proceed to run further forward, passing by and subsequently stepping behind the struck goon and then sending a powerful back-kick (donkey kick) straight for his back, which would push him towards the incoming goon that was behind him.
 
Watching the cretins draw their weapons, Sam had been only an instant away from delivering a quick kick to the edge of the table, sending it tumbling over onto the two across the way. Fortunately, Mittens had the sense to call off his mutts and they lowered their weapons, clearly uncertain of what to do next. Sam sneered at the two across the table, tightening her grip upon the “Killer”, poised at their boss’s head. Their uncertainty was exactly what she’d hoped for, she had surprised the group perfectly and it seemed they were at her mercy for the moment.

As Mr. Mittens complied, placing his hands upon the table, Sam kept an eye on the goons, they were still a wild card in this situation and she couldn’t be certain they would stay still until she had acquired her information. Disengaging from the situation would be difficult as well, she reasoned. If things went well, she could always use Mittens as a human shield and back her way out of the establishment, but that decision would come later.

From the corner of her eye, Sam could see her quarry eyeing her; then he spoke up. Relaxing a bit, or, at least, giving the appearance of relaxation, Sam leaned down to Mittens' level and eyed him right back, resting her left arm upon the table to support herself. “Such language,” she said, shaking her head, “and here I had planned on replacing that drink of yours.” The bounty hunter cleared her throat then continued, “What I want from you, Mr. Mittens, is information, just answer me a few questions and I’ll be out of your hair,” she said, grinning cruelly, “I’m sure you and your associates are quite aware of the abduction of our fine Mayor’s young daughter, would you happen to know anything, anything at all, about that?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
 
“So you heard the rumors huh?” asked the ill named bald man in reply to the question, “Not that I can't deny it myself, but we did a good job transporting the little bitch.” He then glanced up at his goons, “I don't know where she got taken to, but I know someone who does.”

If Sam was watching the goons she would noticed that one was looking behind her rather than at her. Suddenly a hand grabbed for Sam's gun arm and pulled it behind the bounty hunter to drop Sam's gun. After both Mittins and the attacker would both back away before one of the goons ran around the table and attempted to punch the bounty hunter while the second goon was unable to keep up with his partner and will probably be next to fight Sam.

The person who wrenched the gun away was a female Nepleslian with a mowhawk herself and a metal right hand. She chuckled as she waited for her turn to fight.




The charging goon gave out a groan when his arm was twisted and sent sailing into the first goon, both ended up collapsing on the ground. Suddenly a chain lashed out at Dimitri's cheek causing him to cough some blood and left a bruise. The chain goon was laughing loudly while spinning his chain before stepping forward to slash with his chain at Dimitri's legs, then at his head.

The fourth goon stood near his boss cheering the fight on, wanting to get in the action himself.
 
Thud! Cough!

Dimitri clumsily side-stepped after being hit from the impact of the chain. A strong taste of iron crept into his mouth, and he could feel the pain spread across his face like a vice grip of one of the goons latching onto his face with all it's might. His right eye closed for a second, the cheek below it surging pain through it, before it was bearable enough to open it again.

Turning towards the goon, the bounty hunter awaited the next slash, and, seeing it was headed for his legs, he jumped, hoping to let the chain slide under him before it was headed back up.

This time he was ready.

When the chain slid up to hit him in the head again, Dimitri sent his bionic arm towards it and spun his arm to wrap the chain around it and grabbed the chain with his bionic hand. The initial hit of the chain would go by almost unnoticed, though he could still feel the pain it caused. Because his arm was bionic, however, it withstood the blunt strike, and was much more capable of coping with it than his face was.

Once that happened it was only matter of coiling the rest of the chain around his arm as he approached the chain-wielding gang member. The guy either let go of the chain, tried to get the chain untied somehow (rather hard since the coiling around his arm around it many times enough to secure it tightly) or he'd try to start a tug of war; a tug of war which Dimitri would gladly let this guy win as long as he'd get tugged along with the chain.

If Dimitri was able to get close enough to this guy, and the guy was stupid enough to keep holding the chain, the goon'd find himself at the end of a mean, full-bodied side-kick sent straight for his stomach. This would force the other man to either let go of the chain, or get hit really hard by the kick and then stay within range of it or whatever other limbs Dimitri decided to assault the goon with.

If the goon let go off the chain, well, then he'd probably have to assess his situation. Likely the goon would pull out some other weapon in order to fight him with his chain gone. If he didn't, and decided to fight Dimitri with his fists, then Dimitri was at the advantage.

After all, a chain can always be used as a makeshift gauntlet. All the while, he'd be developing a headache from the chain hitting his face he would ignore to the best of his abilities.
 
Sam had followed the bald man’s gaze across the table, but noticed the goon’s reaction too late. What she’d got out of Mittens was a start but she’d need to know more, a lot more. Certainly, she had expected more of a fight, at least, in terms of extracting useful information from the bald crook, but a new adversary appearing hadn’t seemed terribly likely. When the cold metal hand clammed down on her right wrist, yanked her arm back, away from the gangster’s head, and proceeded to crush the small energy pistol out of her hand, the bounty hunter let out a sharp gasp and bucked backwards, off of the table. Sam struggled to free her herself from the, likely, cybernetically enhanced grip of her assailant but felt her own grip upon her weapon weaken.

She tried to turn and strike at her attacker with her left hand, but the crushing grip suddenly loosened only an instant after the bounty hunter lost her hold upon the “Killer”. The newcomer, a woman sporting a do similar to Mittens’ other cretins, quickly backed away, out of Sam’s reach. “Shits!” Sam snapped, taking several quick steps back and to her left. With the feeling in her right hand slowly returning, she dropped into a hasty ready stance and considered her situation. Mittens and the mohawked woman were furthest out of range to her right while one of the goons dashed around the table to her left, his pal coming around from the right, albeit on a slower approach.

Sam snorted and readied herself, it appeared the gang had some aversion to using weapons in the bar, instead choosing to duke it out with their fists. The bounty hunter still had her .45 but a three or four on one fist fight struck Sam as the more winnable scenario unless she tipped the odds in her favor. Mindful that the lady-goon likely still had her “Killer”, Sam gave the table a swift kick to her right, towards the woman, also, hopefully, hindering goon number two’s approach.

Her decision to kick the table over left her momentarily off balance, vulnerable to the onrushing cretin from her right and his punch clipped her left shoulder as she turned awkwardly to avoid the brunt of the strike. Now in close combat with the ugly mowhawk towering over her, Sam managed to regain her balance and put her arms up like a boxer, staying in close and bobbing left to right. She knew she couldn’t outright block a strike with her forearms, but at this range, a mere foot or so from the crook, he likely couldn’t strike with full force and she’d see it coming.

The bounty hunter chose to wait for the fellow’s next move, if he swung again, she would aim to bob out of the way and reach for the wrist, catch the arm at its full extension and deliver a strike with her opposite hand to the elbow, perhaps with enough force to damage the joint. Though, a quick follow up by the goon with his opposite would require a forearm to wrist deflection, forcing Sam to forgo the elbow strike. A snap kick with her right shin to the man’s groin would work in the latter case, Sam’s knee-high steel plated combat boots providing a vicious striking surface. A kick from the cretin, on the other hand, would require either a shin block or, if he kicked high enough, a chance to catch the man’s leg with one arm and a deliver a fist strike to the groin.
 
The table caught the minion off guard and tumbled over the table falling on his back hard. The second minion running around the table was a bit surprised how nimble the bounty hunter was but had kept to his limited knowledge of combat by trying to punch her again, unknowing he was setting himself up for a lot of pain.

The girl saw this coming and placed tossed the gun to her bald boss and jumped over the table while landing on the first minion who was still groaning from the fall, now having about 128lbs of woman landing on his stomach. Right after Sam would be finished with the second minion she would have to avoid a quick roundhouse kick.




Apparently the goon never had this happen before and attempted to pull the chain away from his opponent only to realize a boot was heading right for him sending him staggering a couple of feet, and had a dazed look on his face like he was recovering from the blow.

As soon as Dimitry thought he had an opening, the forth goon attempted a running jump kick. If he missed he would use every little bit of his brawling knowledge to attempt to punch Dimitry despite being completely outclassed in his attempt to do so.
 
Still preoccupied with the goon who’d attacked her, Sam nearly grinned as she watched his arm cock back for another punch. Uncle Louis had said there were barroom brawlers and there were real fighters, and this would show very clearly the difference between the two. The poor Mohawk was outclassed and he didn’t even know it. Though his punch had power behind it, the bounty hunter was expecting it and bobbed quickly to her right, catching the man’s wrist with her left hand and, just as the goon tried to draw back and break her grasp, her right fist came up and struck his elbow at a slight angle. There came an ugly pop as the strike connected and Sam quickly released her grip upon the man’s wrist and rotated away to her right to avoid another punch from his left. Though, it appeared the cretin didn’t have it in him, the elbow strike may have partially dislocated the joint or, perhaps, cracked a bone, whatever the case, his right arm was likely out of action.

Before the goon could do much more, Sam delivered a vicious kick to his stomach and left side with her left leg sending him tumbling backwards toward the overturned table. Turning around to face Mittens and the lady-goon, Sam found the latter within striking distance and had little time to react to the swift kick. Mittens’ now empty chair was within range, however, and, as she turned to face her attacker, Sam caught the backrest with her left hand, attempting to bring it up into the path of the kick arcing in from her left. The wooden chair was demolished, absorbing little of the attack’s energy and the kick connected, striking the bounty hunter squarely in her left side. Her ballistic vest cushioned the blow further and she had rolled with the strike, but it was still more then enough to knock the wind out of her lungs and send her reeling.

“Ffffffffuuuuuuuu…” Sam gasped, trying to catch her breath and regain her balance. Surely there would be an ugly bruise left and deep breaths were proving painful, but she felt confident none of her ribs had been damaged by the strike. The kick had been impressive and caught her off guard, but Miss Mohawk would learn the bounty hunter wasn’t so easily fazed. Quickly considering her situation, Sam realized she still held most of the backrest of Mittens’ chair in her left hand – the cross rail with two splintered stiles protruding from it. Taking the improvised weapon in her right hand, freeing her left to block, deflect and prevent further strikes to her bruised side, Sam cautiously circled in towards her opponent. Knowing well the woman’s cybernetic hand would be a significant threat, Sam moved in swiftly from the left. After feinting a few low strikes with the chair fragment in an attempt to leave her attacker off balance, Sam made a quick jab with the wooden weapon aimed at the side of the lady-goon’s face and neck.
 
Once having finished kicking the goon to the floor, he had a bionic arm wrapped in a thick, heavy, hard chain. Now, he obviously wasn't expecting the people around him to stop fighting him; on the contrary! He was expecting for all of them to gang up on him at the same time!

Apparently, however, that seemed not to be the case, after a quick tilting of his head to the side confirmed that the other two goons were still getting on their feet through his peripheral. The only rash movement he saw was coming from his left. The fourth guy was now dashing at him and jumping into the air. Was that a... jumping kick?

Oh wow...

Goon number 4 was about to learn a very valuable lesson...

Dimitri used his left hand to redirect the foot away from him, and, with his chained right forearm, sent a powerful inverted lariat strike to the goon's lower torso, aiming to break the lower ribs. The movement of both arms was almost synchronized.

...never launch yourself into the air in a fight for longer than a second.

If the strike hit, which it was almost impossible for it not to, considering the goon was in the air and had no leverage, Dimitri would turn left-wise and follow the motion of the flying douche-bag. This would allow the goon to fall to the ground instead of crashing against Dimitri and causing both of them to fall to the ground.

A hundred eighty or more pounds of weight moving at 10-12 miles per hour wouldn't just be dead-stopped mid-air (or, at least, it was very hard to achieve this in such short notice), but you could play with the direction it was headed if you were grounded.
 
The black haired mohawk woman took a step back and held her hands up in front of her in a generic martial arts stance. At first she seemed a bit nervous only to start to enjoy the fight when she was being poked at by the remains of a chair. She seemed confident and moved close enough to raise her right leg, and drop it on the smaller woman, destroying the weapon she would bring to defense. It was suddenly apparent that the Nepleslian women was much taller than Sam.

Should would then back off a step to lower her guard, "A metal leg works just as well you know, my right side mostly is after an accident," she then cracked her neck, and then with a inquisitive look on her face had a question for her opponent, "By the way what's your name, I want to know before I crush your small body!"

-------

The flying douche-bag was sent spiraling into the first two goons who finally got up only to be douched by Goon #4. All three hitting the ground at the same time with loud moans and the sounds of human body meeting pavement. The crescent scared leader could only sigh how easily his guys were beat up and decided to pull out his sidearm, a Zen Armaments .45 pistol.

“Ya know all I wanted was a GOOD TIME with some RANDOM BITCH, and you had to FUCK IT UP!” He looked rather pissed about the entire thing, his arm doing a thrusting motion on each exclamation. Dimitry could see the scared leader gun arm was shaking a little, probably from the fact his entire goon force was knocked around single handedly. “WHO the HELL are you anyway?”
 
Dimitri spit some blood on the ground, his cheek slowly swelling up from the hit of the chains against his face. His head turned to the bastards all over the floor, sprawled all over each other. A nice turn of events he hadn't planned on, which he welcomed with open arms. When he turned to the leader, he saw the gun being flailed around, while the guy spewed something about his evening being ruined.

Well, soo-rrryyyy guy. Maybe your evening wouldn't be ruined if you weren't ruining other people's evening's with rape.

Anyway, there was no time to tell this guy who he was or who he wasn't. The gun had to go first. Seeing the weapon being flailed around like crazy made Dimitri take the initiative. He charged towards the leader with a sudden sprint in the middle of his second sentence as he flailed his arm to the word 'HELL'. That gun wasn't one easily shot with one arm, particularly if you were carrying it that loosely.

Even if the leader did try shooting him, chances were the recoil would make his whole arm flail backwards, and the shot's aim would be completely off. Just in case though, Dimitri kept his chained arm in front of him, hoping that if a shot was fired it would hit the chains and save the rest of his body from the damage.

Once near enough, his left arm would proceed to grab at the leader's wrist, and the chained arm would send a powerful back fist at the man's stomach. His whole body would turn, his left hand still grabbing the man's wrist, and he'd pass the arm over his right shoulder and then pull the arm downwards with a quick jerk as he pushed his shoulder upwards in a quick instant, using the weight of his whole body. This would place the arm's elbow at Dimitri's shoulder and cause immense pain once the sudden jerk downwards would aim to bend the elbow backwards. It would sprain, if not break it.

He hoped the man would let go of the weapon due to the damage. If not, he'd have to judo-drop the dude forward and snap his arm in half to ensure he'd not use the gun anymore.

Guns in criminal hands were bad for Dimitri's health.
 
In Sam’s experience as a bounty hunter, she often found it rare to face an opponent smaller in stature so such odds were something she’d just grown used to. Most thought their size and strength would be enough and these usually lacked skill, others would underestimate her and she’d finish them quickly with a swift opener or the like. The woman she now faced towered over her as the goon she’d fought previously had, but she appeared to possess some form of skill and, while seemingly cocky, the lady-goon didn’t strike Same as one she could trick easily. When her opponent moved back, the bounty hunter closed in, her improvised weapon held at the ready. Sam saw the strike coming and tilted her chair fragment so that its splintered ends would spear the woman’s leg, but, upon impact, it became apparent the weapon had not found flesh. The chair practically exploded in her hand and Sam jerked away, her right hand flailing away from the splinters involuntarily.

Fortunately, Sam’s leather gloves were tough enough to protect her hand from the splinters as she whirled away. It seemed likely her opponent had some form of armor beneath her clothing or, worse yet, a cybernetic leg. Her fears were instantly confirmed when the woman spoke up and Sam sighed bitterly. When an opponent was bigger or stronger than she, different tactics had to be used and the bounty hunter knew she could adapt easily and overcome these challenges. She’d been doing it for years and had learned specifically how to fight foes with a physical edge over her. Unfortunately, cyberized opponents were a different story entirely. They could be enhanced in ways that made them inhumanly strong or dangerously quick and, possessing no cybernetic or artificial parts in any form herself, Sam was at a disadvantage against such a foe. Developing a method to combat cyberized opponents was slow in coming, but if it came to a melee battle with one, Sam had a rudimentary plan in place. It appeared the lady-goon was as she had said which meant her left side would be more vulnerable and, on top of that, it would place an upper limit on the strength and speed of her enhancements.

Sam knew at least a few things about cybernetics; that one could not install enhancements that preformed well beyond the natural stress tolerances of the body and, with that in mind, she felt confident her opponent wasn’t too far beyond her ability to handle. Of course, the lady-goon could be lying. Continuing the fight unarmed would be risky and, as such, the bounty hunter decided it best to arm herself. Backpedaling away from her opponent, Sam caught the question and reached back, over her shoulder, taking hold of the Dao sword pair in its scabbard. Cyberized or not, the monomolecular vibroblades would make short work of the lady-goon, effectively nullifying her advantage as blocking a strike would become pointless against such a weapon. In a flash, Sam drew her blades, flourishing them in a threatening display first with one hand then, after juggling one to her left, both. “Why the hell should you care?” she replied, in a mocking tone, before moving in from the lady-goon’s left, the blade in her left hand held out, angled to the right to defend while the blade in her right hand swept in at her opponent’s left side with a half-hearted slash. Both blades buzzed with the soft vibro-hum, hopefully the Mohawk would know what that meant. Either way, Sam wasn’t exactly expecting her strike to connect; she was more interested in observing how her opponent would react. It was evident the woman would have to dodge to avoid the blade, whether or not she had been enhanced beyond what she’d claimed would quickly be revealed.
 
The woman quickly pulled out a knife in her defense while stepping back away from the wing to avoid the swing, however this was at the cost of her blade to the vibro sword, slicing the small blade and unbalancing the Mohawk who was relying on her hasty gambit causing her to slip and fall on her back. From her position on the ground she looked up at the bounty hunter with a transfixed angry stare while wondering if her death would be swift.

"That there be all woman," said a loud voice coming from Mittins holding out his side arm, "Ya proved yourself, so leta stop before sombodah gets dead."

-------

It was a snap shot at the word "Hell" with Dimitri's sudden movement causing the reaction, however the bullet luckily glanced off Dimitri's metal hand instead. The second shot was fired into the air when the gunman's arm was grabbed. He groaned in pain from the odd angle that his arm was bent into. The Mohawk leader tried to keep from yelling in pain in front of his goons, however he had decided to keep his arm and dropped the gun while his other arm in the open as a sign of surrender.
 
Gun dropped, Dimitri leaned down and picked it up quickly, then rolled forward and stood up. He turned around and aimed it at the goon leader, frowning.

A moment of silence was held, before Dimitri finally answered, gun still aimed at the leader with his chained arm, smiling. "I'm a bounty hunter. Name's Dimitri. Dimitri Rogues.

You happen to know anything about Mayor Carpenter's daughter? Rin Carpenter? There's a 50 thousand KS reward for finding her, and that's why I'm in New Kohana."
 
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