BARGE ATTACK

[bargemods]

Who: Anybody who stayed behind at the Barge, and GOOOOOOOOONS (and any army people who haven't defected/died lolol)
Where: The Barge
When: This evening
Warnings: I'm guessing violence. AND HOME ALONE TRAPS

Comments

HEY HARVEY. c:

[psychosnowflake]

Tyler kind of swaggered into view; the goons hung back, out of sight and awaiting orders. The brief conversation he'd had with Swing before they'd captured him had given Tyler the very interesting piece of information that there was someone onboard the ship who looked just like him. That would almost certainly buy him some time, if the same lie would work twice. He could do some recon, get close to the guy, then attack when he wasn't paying attention. Plus, he just liked fucking with people.

Seeing the gun, he raised his hands in a 'whoa, don't shoot' pose, and kept on moving closer.

[psychosnowflake]

Inwardly, Tyler grinned. The same lie had worked; this guy thought he was that Jack guy. Outwardly, he affected a look of slightly nervous confusion. He moved closer, hands still up. Whoa, the guy's face was pretty messed up... but Tyler had seen worse - mutants and the injuries he and his boys had inflicted - so he didn't let it show.

"Man, there's guys coming here from the Master... a lot of them," he said, waving a hand away from where his boys were hiding. He decided not to address the man's actual question, instead forging ahead. He could gauge the reaction. "Your gun's useful and all, but I really hope we've got some more shit than that to throw at them."

PS - permission to hurt him totally given

[psychosnowflake]

Oh, that wasn't very nice. Tyler edged still closer to Harvey and protested in a hurt voice, "What? You- You think I'm one of them? You think I'm one of those crazy fuckers?" He turned the act up a notch as he eased a hand into the pocket that held his set of brass knuckles, gambling that the man wouldn't shoot if he thought there was even a chance Tyler was his buddy. "Man, fuck you. Fuck them, fuck this whole mess! I could've died out there for chrissakes!"

The brass knuckles were nicely heavy and cold around his fingers. Only a foot or two, and he'd be within reasonable striking distance. Then it'd really get fun.

LOL I wasn't expecting that! :D

[psychosnowflake]

"Die here?" Tyler began, dropping the charade as the guy said he'd die here. That was total bullshit; the guy had to be bluffing. Another step and he'd attack. To buy some time, he continued in a mocking voice, "What makes you think you'll be able t--"

And then the bullet tore through his lower thigh and Tyler went down as his leg collapsed under him. "Goddamnit, that hurts," he groaned. The goons were rushing forward - only three guys now, thanks to that girl and her taser - but not as a group. They were idiots, coming at the man one at a time, admittedly from different directions. Dragging himself upwards, Tyler stood, putting all his weight on his good leg but before he could yell at them to pull themselves together, he slipped, nearly fell, and the muscles in his wounded leg screamed in pain.

WELL, you have my approval. :D

[psychosnowflake]

Tyler watched as the guy sent two of his men down. He was a good shot, and they were both dead, Tyler could tell from their lack of movement. Okay, now? He was really pissed off. He wanted to make this man hurt. He wanted to kill him. But as there was really no good option at this point, Tyler waved his last goon away. If he played it right, maybe he'd be able to get an advantage somehow.

"Two-Face, huh?" he asked, his voice tight as he stood back up, ignoring the pain from his injured leg. There was a lot of blood, but not as much as there have been; the bullet must have missed the artery. Thank god for small mercies. He couldn't help himself, even when he had a gun pointed towards him; he kept mocking the guy, "What kind of name is that? Got anything to do with the whole crispy burned face thing?"

SORRY FOR THE LATENESS :\

[psychosnowflake]

"Yeah, pretty damn crazy," Tyler panted, trying fairly unsuccessfully to hide a small wince as a stab of pain shot through his leg. His tone made it clear he didn't mean the coincidence with the name. The muscles in his hand clenched involuntarily as his leg throbbed. Oh, this was going to be a bitch to recover from.

"So tell me about this Jack son-of-a-bitch," he said, after regarding the gun and the man holding it for a moment. He was still trying to buy time. "Seems pretty fucked up that I could look so much like one of your crew that even you guys get mixed up."

[psychosnowflake]

"I just 'fell over'? What the fuck does that mean?" Tyler snorted, and rolled his eyes at the other man. That sounded like total bullshit if he'd ever heard it. He'd grown up in Masterworld, before it had even been Masterworld. He'd lived his life there. No way was he just some amnesiac psycho from this Barge. That was just not an option.

He crossed his arms, still mentally straining to block out the pain. His last goon was a respectful distance from the gun, but he was still hovering, watching his leader.