You and I, we may look the same, but we are very far apart.
WHO: Jan and everybody who wants to kill Jan (open)
WHERE: Magical park of anonymity
WHEN: Friday morning, 3 AM
SUMMARY: Jan decides to fuck with the city just to see what'll happen. The city reacts with appropriate ass-kicking fury.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, whatever afterwards
Jan laid one P90 over his shoulder, the other sitting on the folding chair to his left. 2:59 - he hadn't exactly given a reasonable time for a group of clueless and half-asleep supers to comb an entire city the size of New York, but nobody ever said Jan Valentine was a particularly reasonable guy. He glanced over his shoulder at the cross, the wet grass in a large circle around it, and wiped his mouth while waiting. Whoever went to save that poor hostage was in for a terrific surprise, considering Jan had chosen to troll everyone magnificently - tied to the cross was a particularly eager-looking blowup doll. He snickered at the thought of the look on the face of whoever wandered close enough to find this out - they'd lunge for her, he assumed, and land right in the circle. He'd have enough time to light at least one idiot on fire and shoot with the other hand.
To be honest, Jan Valentine was expecting a loss tonight. It'd been a stupid and impulsive thing, but that's really all he was good for when left to his own devices. Destroying shit.
"Well fuck," He shouted at the sky, grinning, "I guess it's time we had ourselves a roast, huh?" He didn't care what time it was, not in the least, and yet he continued to wait just a minute longer, cigar clenched in his teeth expectantly, every muscle in his body prepared to act in a sudden spring dodge at a moment's notice, all his senses strained as far as they would go. Plumes of smoke rose evenly from the end of his cigar and more unevenly from between his teeth when he breathed out. If Integra Hellsing was good for anything, in his opinion, it was taste in fine cigars. He sort of missed hers.
WHERE: Magical park of anonymity
WHEN: Friday morning, 3 AM
SUMMARY: Jan decides to fuck with the city just to see what'll happen. The city reacts with appropriate ass-kicking fury.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, whatever afterwards
Jan laid one P90 over his shoulder, the other sitting on the folding chair to his left. 2:59 - he hadn't exactly given a reasonable time for a group of clueless and half-asleep supers to comb an entire city the size of New York, but nobody ever said Jan Valentine was a particularly reasonable guy. He glanced over his shoulder at the cross, the wet grass in a large circle around it, and wiped his mouth while waiting. Whoever went to save that poor hostage was in for a terrific surprise, considering Jan had chosen to troll everyone magnificently - tied to the cross was a particularly eager-looking blowup doll. He snickered at the thought of the look on the face of whoever wandered close enough to find this out - they'd lunge for her, he assumed, and land right in the circle. He'd have enough time to light at least one idiot on fire and shoot with the other hand.
To be honest, Jan Valentine was expecting a loss tonight. It'd been a stupid and impulsive thing, but that's really all he was good for when left to his own devices. Destroying shit.
"Well fuck," He shouted at the sky, grinning, "I guess it's time we had ourselves a roast, huh?" He didn't care what time it was, not in the least, and yet he continued to wait just a minute longer, cigar clenched in his teeth expectantly, every muscle in his body prepared to act in a sudden spring dodge at a moment's notice, all his senses strained as far as they would go. Plumes of smoke rose evenly from the end of his cigar and more unevenly from between his teeth when he breathed out. If Integra Hellsing was good for anything, in his opinion, it was taste in fine cigars. He sort of missed hers.