Post by Riley Campbell on Jan 15, 2012 9:08:49 GMT -5
///// INTRODUCING
i n t r o d u c i n g . . .
Full Name~ Warren Glenn DeSilva
Gender~ Male
Age~ 22
Date of Birth~ 08/14/1983
Location~ New York City
Faction~ Neutral
Celebrity Claim~ Jay Baruchel
Play anyone else?~
Aaron Bachman
Corina Forsythe
Gillian Chamberlain
Vance Lewis Harvey
Denise Eleanor Sinclair
/// MIND
m i n d . . .
/// SPECIAL ABILITY
Hypnotic Suggestion / Intuitive Profiling
Warren's ability affords him a keen sense of perception for the smallest subtleties and signals that a person might give off, effectively reading them. As an intuitive ability, he doesn't see directly into the mind of a person, but can observe, measure, and gauge them on a level far superior to what any ordinary person could, picking up on their likes, dislikes, vices, weaknesses, or possibly even their fears or intentions. Even without the more active part of his ability, it places him at a strong advantage in manipulating others, and also seeing through their deceptions, making him very difficult to lie to. The more active part of his ability allows that, through concentration and direct eye contact, he can actually increase the appeal of a suggestion to a point where a person might be persuaded to do something very uncharacteristic of them.
[/i]
/// ABILITY LIMITS
Warren's ability to read others requires, ideally, interaction, or at least some form of observation. It is through observation that he is able to pick up on the various subtleties that clue him in and allow him to read a person. While this means that the more time he can observe or interact with a person, the more he can pick up on, it also means that without the opportunity, he won't pick up on much. Passing on a suggestion typically doesn't work without direct eye contact, although, it is possible that Warren could learn how to pass on a suggestion by some alternate form of connection, like touch. Also, while he can sway people to do things they normally wouldn't, he can't actually make them do extreme things, such as kill themselves, or shoot a friend or family member, unless they already harbor the seed of desire for such an action. For example, to make an agent shoot his partner, he would have to be able to play upon some kind of rooted enmity in the persuaded that already exists. He can't simply control people, only make a possibility greatly more appealing.
[/i]
/// PERSONALITY
Warren is a shameless opportunist who isn't above using his abilities for personal gain. Years of picking up on the darker natures of people have made him cynical and distrusting, but beneath that exterior is a softer, gentler side reserved for the kind of person he's lost faith in the existence of. He's witty, and cunning, not to mention elusive, but although he's not above stealing from someone who 'deserves' it, he certainly isn't cruel or interested in seriously hurting anyone, much less in killing them. Anyone who really gets to know him might also realize that he seems to be perpetually on the run, perhaps from a phantom of the collective number of people he has cheated, or perhaps a specific person or group of people. Also, he's grown accustom to having money to spend, and has developed fairly refined tastes.
[/i]
Likes~
Dislikes~
Strengths~
Weaknesses~
Skills~
Hobbies~
Habits~
Flaws~
/// BODY
b o d y . . .
Age~ 22
Celebrity Claim~ Jay Baruchel
Sexual Preference~ Homosexual
Ethnicity~ 1/2 Caucasian; 1/2 Portuguese-Brazilian
Hair~ Black
Eyes~ Brown
/// APPEARANCE
Warren is more than a little kept-up on his appearance. He keeps himself clean-shaven, his hair is kept neatly trimmed. He's rather skinny, but fit and healthy. He also has a memorable trademark smirk that just adds to how cocky he can sometimes be. His ears are pierced and he often wears a pair of diamond earrings proudly. Depending on what he's up to, he may be dressed up or dressed down, and due to his lifestyle, that creates a large range of appearances, since sometimes the best way to dress is inconspicuously. He has a number of hats to help him fit in, as well as sneakers, loose-fit jeans, tank tops and other t-shirts or button-up shirts. He likes to dress up though, and owns a few expensive suits. Most are black, but he owns one dark purple suit for special occasions. He also likes to wear expensive shades, regardless of the rest of his attire.
/// SPIRIT
s p i r i t . . .
Faction~ Neutral
Birthplace~ St. Louis, MO
Mother~ Daniela DeSilva; Deceased
Father~ Ronald DeSilva; Deceased?; Cancer Inducing Touch
Siblings~ Mona DeSilva; Age 20
/// HISTORY
Warren was born in St. Louis, Missouri, to the newly-wed Ronald and Daniela DeSilva. Two years later, his younger sister was born, Mona DeSilva.
Warren's childhood wasn't traumatic, but it certainly left much to be desired. As younger children, both siblings' lives were ordinary enough, they were pushed hard by their father to excel in school, and their mother provided the care and nurturing one would expect. When Warren was thirteen, however, the family received news that Daniela, his mother, was dying, and was not expected to live through the next two years. Cancer exploded through various portions of her body at an alarming rate, and as it slowly took her life, their father, Ronald, grew more and more distant and detached from the family. Naturally, the siblings were forced to turn to each other, and grew very close, despite the age gap, and actually had minimal difficulty getting along.
After Daniela passed away, the household had become a gray and eerie place, and both siblings kept their grades up at Warren's insistence to Mona that they couldn't count on their father for much longer. His ability had begun to manifest, and he began to realize things about his father that frightened him. Mona pressed on and made excellent marks in school, even skipping two grades. With Warren's support, she was accepted into law school, and their father was easily able to afford the expensive tuition.
With Mona out of the house, Warren made his belated move to apply for the college of his choice and was accepted, but before leaving home, decided to confront his father about his suspicions. Ronald remained rigidly unresponsive to Warren's accusations, and Warren quickly packed his things and left for an institution with esteemed courses in psychology.
Upon arrival, he was informed that there had been "financial miscalculations" and that he would not be able to attend. He quickly realized what had happened, he had been betrayed, and returning home was not an option. He was found several hours after informed, hanging his head on a campus bench, by a Professor Elaine Bachman, who sensed his trouble and sat with him, asking about it. In their conversation, she felt sorry for him and decided to introduce him to her son, Aaron Bachman.
After introduced, the two quickly grew close and Aaron helped Warren to get a job, and shared his apartment with him. Their attractions grew and they became boyfriends over the course of a few months until Warren was informed on the phone by his sister Mona that their father had hung himself, and willed his money to the corporation to which he belonged. Insistent that his father would never kill himself, he quickly settled on a decision to return home and find out what really happened, a decision that Aaron adamantly opposed.
Prior to a massive memory gap, leaving the airport in a taxi is the last memory Warren can recall. On the other side of a large rift of lost time, he recalls finding himself in a cheap hotel in Vegas. So much time had passed that he was unable to contact Aaron and Mona, and he was forced to realize he was on his own. Left to his own devices, he met a number of unsavory people in the underground, using his ability to read and manipulate them to gain their trust by helping them with small time robberies, boosting cars or electronics, or trafficking drugs, or other low ball criminal activities, and picked up a number of skills.
He eventually began to grow uncomfortable when he started to take root in the lifestyle, and grew paranoid, expecting his manipulations to turn on him, or someone to sniff him out, and used his wile to orchestrate a turnaround, double-crossing his former associates and making a small fortune before escaping to New York, where he now uses similar, if more subtle tricks to survive.
/// SAMPLE RP
"Another royal?" the stocky, surly man sitting opposite furrowed his brow, looking over his cards as he watched their anonymous guest for the evening lay out his flush. He glared up at him in disbelief, "No way... Chip, you're cheatin', man!" he tilted his head a bit, making a rather forward accusation.
The one who had played the flush, a rather scrawny-looking young man in a black suit that was at least a hundred dollars nicer than the suits worn by the other three, dropped his shoulders and blinked at the man in disbelief. "Are you seriously calling me a cheater? I told you before, I'm lucky, and if you play me, you just might lose." he argued.
The other two weren't as forward, but eyed their guest with as much suspicion, and after a few seconds of silence, the accuser shot up onto his feet, glaring down at 'Chip', "The nose knows, man, and I smell a cheat." he growled through grit teeth, threateningly, as if trying to intimidate him.
'Chip' merely disconnected from eye contact, blinking in a sort of disbelief, and slowly stood, "Now, I always play an honorable game. I really don't have to take this." he shook his head as if simply insulted. "You can even keep my share of the money, I got plenty." he added. "What, can't keep up the luck?" the tall, brick house of a man challenged.
'Chip' looked up, directly into his eyes and narrowing his own. "I said I don't cheat, now you can take your spiky-headed ass on somewhere." he threw up his hand at him, not seeming particularly threatened, "You guys are just a bunch of thugs anyways." he maintained eye contact as he spoke, "Just go on and finish your game without me, my share's free. Good idea, right?" he suggested, "Never been so insulted..." he grumbled as he turned away and stormed out of the poorly-lit, smoke-filled room.
He continued down the hallway at a swift pace, holding his breath until he made it outside, and quickly shut the door behind him, then looked left, then right, and exploded into a swift sprint down the alley.
He could see the lit street up ahead growing closer and closer, but felt himself stop abruptly, the world whirling around him as he felt his back slam into the brick wall, "You're wallet man, all of it."
'Chip' shook his head and cleared his senses, "You have got to be kidding me." he rolled his eyes, which grew wide as the grungy assailant held a switchblade up to his face, which flicked out into the light with a metal tick. He shifted his eyes, the only part of him that moved, and looked directly into the man's eyes, "How droll. You're gonna stick me with a knife and take my money, is that it?"
"I'll do it! Hand it over." the man demanded, and 'Chip' sighed, shook his head, and looked directly into his eyes, "No, you will not. Put the knife down. Stabbing me would be a really stupid idea... not to mention highly... uncreative."
"Excuse me?" the man growled, then blinked a bit, seeming lost in thought for a moment. He backed up, easing off and putting the blade away. 'Chip' brushed himself off, "Cool." he turned and took a step, then spun on his heel, "Or wait--" he held up a finger, "This suit is like... a buck, five. Seriously. Wanna trade?" he smirked, "You know you wanna." he raised an eyebrow.
At the dealing table, the others could hear the door shut through their uncomfortable silence.
"Norm." the man shook his head as he heard his name, and he slowly sat down. "Goddammit, deal!" he rattled the table as he slammed his fist down against it. "Whatever..." the dark-haired woman in her thirties to his right reached up and untied her hair, letting it down, "I think I need a drink first." she produced a bottle of whiskey seemingly from nowhere and began to pour a round of shots.
She looked up to the smaller man sitting on the other side of the table from herself, "Hey, Calypso, where did you stash that money, anyways?" she asked in a tipsy drawl. The dark-skinned man leaned onto the table, pointing to her face, "I told you, my name is not Calypso."
She broke into laughter, "You know it's so funny when you say that." she shook her head and carried on as Norm stood and moved toward the door, then shot a look down at his colleague, who looked up at him at the same time, "...'tis gone, man!" his eyes grew wide. "Aw hell," the woman growled, her grin melting into a grimace.
Norm blinked a few times, then pulled a gun from his coat, looking between the two of them. "Well, hurry up and sniff him out!!" the woman threw her hands up insistently, and Norm spun and charged out into the dark hallway and into the alley outside, looking around and taking a few sniffs of the air, "Chiiiip!" he growled out loudly.
Down the alley, 'Chip's' eyes grew wide, as he handed his former assailant an amber bottle, "Remember, right up the nose." he pointed, then spun and darted out into the street. The man in Chip's suit spun as he heard commotion from the other end of the alley way, and saw a beast of a man charging through.
"Hey, man!" he threw his arm up, "Check it!" he approached him, forcing him to stop by obscuring any clear passage through the narrow alley. Norm shot him an intense glare, "Get out of my way, you toothless hood rat!" he kept his gun hidden at his side. "Wait, just a moment of your time... I got some cologne for sale!" he stepped closer and put his arm around Norm's shoulder, holding up the amber bottle and squirting it directly into Norm's nostrils.
Norm bucked away like a wild animal, shaking his head and rubbing at his nose with his sleeve, "Idiot!!" he barked angrily, falling back against the dumpster behind him, "Damn junkie!" he quickly raised his gun and aimed it for his face. "Whoa!!" the man with the cologne jumped back, holding up both hands and letting the bottle drop to the ground and shatter, filling the air with overpowering fragrance. "My bad, my bad!"
"I will blow your brains out..." Norm growled, shoving past him and into the open, wiping his watering eyes with his sleeve. He took a few deep breaths and staggered toward the bus stop, and could see the blurred figures of several hoodlums look to regard him. "Any of you punks seen a little rat in a black suit run by here?" he asked, "About this tall..." he held up his hand.
A few shook their heads, "Nobody in a suit, homes..." was the only verbal reply. "Maybe thattaway!" the spokesman of the group held his hand up and pointed down the street, in the opposite direction. Norm looked them over, sizing up the closest one, who wore a red basketball jersey and a blue baseball cap at an odd angle to the back. He struggled to make out the number '62' on the back of the jersey, then tilted his head back and let out a long, grinding sigh through grit teeth, then turned and walked back toward the alley, resigning himself to his losses. He turned down the alley and quickly disappeared.
The figure in the jersey and cap suddenly began to laugh, "So guys, here's the punchline. That story I was just telling you?" he folded his arms, "That was the guy." he turned and looked toward the alley way. "No way...!" their faces lit up, and all of them began to laugh. "Homes, what kind of a sorry-ass name is Chip?"
"Just an alias, kid. Entirely disposable." he shook his head, "I really need to get out of this town before somebody shoots me."
Did you read the rules: If I did would you give me a cookie?
i n t r o d u c i n g . . .
Warren Glenn DeSilva ///
[/size][/i]Full Name~ Warren Glenn DeSilva
Gender~ Male
Age~ 22
Date of Birth~ 08/14/1983
Location~ New York City
Faction~ Neutral
Celebrity Claim~ Jay Baruchel
Play anyone else?~
Aaron Bachman
Corina Forsythe
Gillian Chamberlain
Vance Lewis Harvey
Denise Eleanor Sinclair
/// MIND
m i n d . . .
what's in my head?
/// SPECIAL ABILITY
Hypnotic Suggestion / Intuitive Profiling
Warren's ability affords him a keen sense of perception for the smallest subtleties and signals that a person might give off, effectively reading them. As an intuitive ability, he doesn't see directly into the mind of a person, but can observe, measure, and gauge them on a level far superior to what any ordinary person could, picking up on their likes, dislikes, vices, weaknesses, or possibly even their fears or intentions. Even without the more active part of his ability, it places him at a strong advantage in manipulating others, and also seeing through their deceptions, making him very difficult to lie to. The more active part of his ability allows that, through concentration and direct eye contact, he can actually increase the appeal of a suggestion to a point where a person might be persuaded to do something very uncharacteristic of them.
[/i]
/// ABILITY LIMITS
Warren's ability to read others requires, ideally, interaction, or at least some form of observation. It is through observation that he is able to pick up on the various subtleties that clue him in and allow him to read a person. While this means that the more time he can observe or interact with a person, the more he can pick up on, it also means that without the opportunity, he won't pick up on much. Passing on a suggestion typically doesn't work without direct eye contact, although, it is possible that Warren could learn how to pass on a suggestion by some alternate form of connection, like touch. Also, while he can sway people to do things they normally wouldn't, he can't actually make them do extreme things, such as kill themselves, or shoot a friend or family member, unless they already harbor the seed of desire for such an action. For example, to make an agent shoot his partner, he would have to be able to play upon some kind of rooted enmity in the persuaded that already exists. He can't simply control people, only make a possibility greatly more appealing.
[/i]
/// PERSONALITY
Warren is a shameless opportunist who isn't above using his abilities for personal gain. Years of picking up on the darker natures of people have made him cynical and distrusting, but beneath that exterior is a softer, gentler side reserved for the kind of person he's lost faith in the existence of. He's witty, and cunning, not to mention elusive, but although he's not above stealing from someone who 'deserves' it, he certainly isn't cruel or interested in seriously hurting anyone, much less in killing them. Anyone who really gets to know him might also realize that he seems to be perpetually on the run, perhaps from a phantom of the collective number of people he has cheated, or perhaps a specific person or group of people. Also, he's grown accustom to having money to spend, and has developed fairly refined tastes.
[/i]
Likes~
- Attracted to sweet or innocent guys, typically younger
- Prefers non-violent solutions (when possible)
- Has refined culinary tastes
- Enjoys (and feels sorry for) people who wear their heart on their sleeve.
- Likes wines, especially red wines, and favors merlot and shiraz
Dislikes~
- Clashes with uptight or self-righteous people
- Brash violence
- Absolutely hates to cook (and does it badly)
- Can't stand abrasive music
- Isn't good at math, and doesn't like dealing with numbers
Strengths~
- Cunning
- Good Mediator
- Highly Perceptive
- Witty
- Agile
- Articulate
- Excellent dexterity
Weaknesses~
- Afraid of violence
- Arrogant
- Cynical
- Distrusting
- Deceptive
- Carries a lot of baggage
- Disorganized
Skills~
- Sleight of Hand
- Card Game Cheating
- Car Theft
- Lock Picking
- Sneaking
- Evasive Driving
- Swimming
- Acting & Disguise
- Writing
Hobbies~
- Swimming
- Writing
- Travel
- Fine Dining
Habits~
- Licks lids when he opens things [even if he doesn't like them]
- A shameless slouch when sitting
- Collects pens [as long as they write]
- Taps on things while waiting, usually with a pen
Flaws~
- Suffers from insomnia [nightmares]
- Hypochondria [mild]
- Occasional bouts of fleeting dizziness
/// BODY
b o d y . . .
caught in your sights . . .
Age~ 22
Celebrity Claim~ Jay Baruchel
Sexual Preference~ Homosexual
Ethnicity~ 1/2 Caucasian; 1/2 Portuguese-Brazilian
Hair~ Black
Eyes~ Brown
/// APPEARANCE
Warren is more than a little kept-up on his appearance. He keeps himself clean-shaven, his hair is kept neatly trimmed. He's rather skinny, but fit and healthy. He also has a memorable trademark smirk that just adds to how cocky he can sometimes be. His ears are pierced and he often wears a pair of diamond earrings proudly. Depending on what he's up to, he may be dressed up or dressed down, and due to his lifestyle, that creates a large range of appearances, since sometimes the best way to dress is inconspicuously. He has a number of hats to help him fit in, as well as sneakers, loose-fit jeans, tank tops and other t-shirts or button-up shirts. He likes to dress up though, and owns a few expensive suits. Most are black, but he owns one dark purple suit for special occasions. He also likes to wear expensive shades, regardless of the rest of his attire.
/// SPIRIT
s p i r i t . . .
this is where i come from . . .
Faction~ Neutral
Birthplace~ St. Louis, MO
Mother~ Daniela DeSilva; Deceased
Father~ Ronald DeSilva; Deceased?; Cancer Inducing Touch
Siblings~ Mona DeSilva; Age 20
/// HISTORY
Warren was born in St. Louis, Missouri, to the newly-wed Ronald and Daniela DeSilva. Two years later, his younger sister was born, Mona DeSilva.
Warren's childhood wasn't traumatic, but it certainly left much to be desired. As younger children, both siblings' lives were ordinary enough, they were pushed hard by their father to excel in school, and their mother provided the care and nurturing one would expect. When Warren was thirteen, however, the family received news that Daniela, his mother, was dying, and was not expected to live through the next two years. Cancer exploded through various portions of her body at an alarming rate, and as it slowly took her life, their father, Ronald, grew more and more distant and detached from the family. Naturally, the siblings were forced to turn to each other, and grew very close, despite the age gap, and actually had minimal difficulty getting along.
After Daniela passed away, the household had become a gray and eerie place, and both siblings kept their grades up at Warren's insistence to Mona that they couldn't count on their father for much longer. His ability had begun to manifest, and he began to realize things about his father that frightened him. Mona pressed on and made excellent marks in school, even skipping two grades. With Warren's support, she was accepted into law school, and their father was easily able to afford the expensive tuition.
With Mona out of the house, Warren made his belated move to apply for the college of his choice and was accepted, but before leaving home, decided to confront his father about his suspicions. Ronald remained rigidly unresponsive to Warren's accusations, and Warren quickly packed his things and left for an institution with esteemed courses in psychology.
Upon arrival, he was informed that there had been "financial miscalculations" and that he would not be able to attend. He quickly realized what had happened, he had been betrayed, and returning home was not an option. He was found several hours after informed, hanging his head on a campus bench, by a Professor Elaine Bachman, who sensed his trouble and sat with him, asking about it. In their conversation, she felt sorry for him and decided to introduce him to her son, Aaron Bachman.
After introduced, the two quickly grew close and Aaron helped Warren to get a job, and shared his apartment with him. Their attractions grew and they became boyfriends over the course of a few months until Warren was informed on the phone by his sister Mona that their father had hung himself, and willed his money to the corporation to which he belonged. Insistent that his father would never kill himself, he quickly settled on a decision to return home and find out what really happened, a decision that Aaron adamantly opposed.
Prior to a massive memory gap, leaving the airport in a taxi is the last memory Warren can recall. On the other side of a large rift of lost time, he recalls finding himself in a cheap hotel in Vegas. So much time had passed that he was unable to contact Aaron and Mona, and he was forced to realize he was on his own. Left to his own devices, he met a number of unsavory people in the underground, using his ability to read and manipulate them to gain their trust by helping them with small time robberies, boosting cars or electronics, or trafficking drugs, or other low ball criminal activities, and picked up a number of skills.
He eventually began to grow uncomfortable when he started to take root in the lifestyle, and grew paranoid, expecting his manipulations to turn on him, or someone to sniff him out, and used his wile to orchestrate a turnaround, double-crossing his former associates and making a small fortune before escaping to New York, where he now uses similar, if more subtle tricks to survive.
/// SAMPLE RP
"Another royal?" the stocky, surly man sitting opposite furrowed his brow, looking over his cards as he watched their anonymous guest for the evening lay out his flush. He glared up at him in disbelief, "No way... Chip, you're cheatin', man!" he tilted his head a bit, making a rather forward accusation.
The one who had played the flush, a rather scrawny-looking young man in a black suit that was at least a hundred dollars nicer than the suits worn by the other three, dropped his shoulders and blinked at the man in disbelief. "Are you seriously calling me a cheater? I told you before, I'm lucky, and if you play me, you just might lose." he argued.
The other two weren't as forward, but eyed their guest with as much suspicion, and after a few seconds of silence, the accuser shot up onto his feet, glaring down at 'Chip', "The nose knows, man, and I smell a cheat." he growled through grit teeth, threateningly, as if trying to intimidate him.
'Chip' merely disconnected from eye contact, blinking in a sort of disbelief, and slowly stood, "Now, I always play an honorable game. I really don't have to take this." he shook his head as if simply insulted. "You can even keep my share of the money, I got plenty." he added. "What, can't keep up the luck?" the tall, brick house of a man challenged.
'Chip' looked up, directly into his eyes and narrowing his own. "I said I don't cheat, now you can take your spiky-headed ass on somewhere." he threw up his hand at him, not seeming particularly threatened, "You guys are just a bunch of thugs anyways." he maintained eye contact as he spoke, "Just go on and finish your game without me, my share's free. Good idea, right?" he suggested, "Never been so insulted..." he grumbled as he turned away and stormed out of the poorly-lit, smoke-filled room.
He continued down the hallway at a swift pace, holding his breath until he made it outside, and quickly shut the door behind him, then looked left, then right, and exploded into a swift sprint down the alley.
He could see the lit street up ahead growing closer and closer, but felt himself stop abruptly, the world whirling around him as he felt his back slam into the brick wall, "You're wallet man, all of it."
'Chip' shook his head and cleared his senses, "You have got to be kidding me." he rolled his eyes, which grew wide as the grungy assailant held a switchblade up to his face, which flicked out into the light with a metal tick. He shifted his eyes, the only part of him that moved, and looked directly into the man's eyes, "How droll. You're gonna stick me with a knife and take my money, is that it?"
"I'll do it! Hand it over." the man demanded, and 'Chip' sighed, shook his head, and looked directly into his eyes, "No, you will not. Put the knife down. Stabbing me would be a really stupid idea... not to mention highly... uncreative."
"Excuse me?" the man growled, then blinked a bit, seeming lost in thought for a moment. He backed up, easing off and putting the blade away. 'Chip' brushed himself off, "Cool." he turned and took a step, then spun on his heel, "Or wait--" he held up a finger, "This suit is like... a buck, five. Seriously. Wanna trade?" he smirked, "You know you wanna." he raised an eyebrow.
* * * * *
At the dealing table, the others could hear the door shut through their uncomfortable silence.
"Norm." the man shook his head as he heard his name, and he slowly sat down. "Goddammit, deal!" he rattled the table as he slammed his fist down against it. "Whatever..." the dark-haired woman in her thirties to his right reached up and untied her hair, letting it down, "I think I need a drink first." she produced a bottle of whiskey seemingly from nowhere and began to pour a round of shots.
She looked up to the smaller man sitting on the other side of the table from herself, "Hey, Calypso, where did you stash that money, anyways?" she asked in a tipsy drawl. The dark-skinned man leaned onto the table, pointing to her face, "I told you, my name is not Calypso."
She broke into laughter, "You know it's so funny when you say that." she shook her head and carried on as Norm stood and moved toward the door, then shot a look down at his colleague, who looked up at him at the same time, "...'tis gone, man!" his eyes grew wide. "Aw hell," the woman growled, her grin melting into a grimace.
Norm blinked a few times, then pulled a gun from his coat, looking between the two of them. "Well, hurry up and sniff him out!!" the woman threw her hands up insistently, and Norm spun and charged out into the dark hallway and into the alley outside, looking around and taking a few sniffs of the air, "Chiiiip!" he growled out loudly.
Down the alley, 'Chip's' eyes grew wide, as he handed his former assailant an amber bottle, "Remember, right up the nose." he pointed, then spun and darted out into the street. The man in Chip's suit spun as he heard commotion from the other end of the alley way, and saw a beast of a man charging through.
"Hey, man!" he threw his arm up, "Check it!" he approached him, forcing him to stop by obscuring any clear passage through the narrow alley. Norm shot him an intense glare, "Get out of my way, you toothless hood rat!" he kept his gun hidden at his side. "Wait, just a moment of your time... I got some cologne for sale!" he stepped closer and put his arm around Norm's shoulder, holding up the amber bottle and squirting it directly into Norm's nostrils.
Norm bucked away like a wild animal, shaking his head and rubbing at his nose with his sleeve, "Idiot!!" he barked angrily, falling back against the dumpster behind him, "Damn junkie!" he quickly raised his gun and aimed it for his face. "Whoa!!" the man with the cologne jumped back, holding up both hands and letting the bottle drop to the ground and shatter, filling the air with overpowering fragrance. "My bad, my bad!"
"I will blow your brains out..." Norm growled, shoving past him and into the open, wiping his watering eyes with his sleeve. He took a few deep breaths and staggered toward the bus stop, and could see the blurred figures of several hoodlums look to regard him. "Any of you punks seen a little rat in a black suit run by here?" he asked, "About this tall..." he held up his hand.
A few shook their heads, "Nobody in a suit, homes..." was the only verbal reply. "Maybe thattaway!" the spokesman of the group held his hand up and pointed down the street, in the opposite direction. Norm looked them over, sizing up the closest one, who wore a red basketball jersey and a blue baseball cap at an odd angle to the back. He struggled to make out the number '62' on the back of the jersey, then tilted his head back and let out a long, grinding sigh through grit teeth, then turned and walked back toward the alley, resigning himself to his losses. He turned down the alley and quickly disappeared.
The figure in the jersey and cap suddenly began to laugh, "So guys, here's the punchline. That story I was just telling you?" he folded his arms, "That was the guy." he turned and looked toward the alley way. "No way...!" their faces lit up, and all of them began to laugh. "Homes, what kind of a sorry-ass name is Chip?"
"Just an alias, kid. Entirely disposable." he shook his head, "I really need to get out of this town before somebody shoots me."
Did you read the rules: If I did would you give me a cookie?