{{
`${userDetail.user.displayName}${userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode ? `#${standardizeBungieGlobalCode(userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode)}` : ""}`}}
{{getUserClans()}}
originally posted in:Neo Punks
12/15/2015 10:30:51 PM
37
Sawyer sits in a bar, twirling his whiskey. It's like his home. Everyday after he'd finished patrolling the streets of NY, he would hand up his dustsr, go to the bar and drink whiskey. It was monotonous. He needed something fun.
[spoiler]Open, I need something to do with my character[/spoiler]
English
-
Edited by JayTea: 12/15/2015 10:32:37 PM[spoiler]Duster?! OH HELL NO, WE ALREADY GOT ONE COWBOY![/spoiler] [b]A man in a brown duster and cowboy hat walks into the bar[/b]
-
Sawyer looks at him. "Hey."
-
[b]He takes note of the duster[/b] "Hmph. Another cowboy"
-
"Detective, actually. The names Aaron Sawyer."
-
"JT" [b]He says, tipping his hat at you, and sitting at the bar. [/b][i]Another lawman[/i] [b]He thinks[/b]
-
"I can probably guess what you're thinking: [i]oh no! Another fed![/i] Well, no. I'm a PI. Freelance. What's your story, JT?"
-
Edited by JayTea: 12/15/2015 11:04:58 PM"Former gangster, ran a terrorist organization, I now am a civilian"
-
"That's nice. I hear rumors about you.. You're some kind of military flunkie. Runs a PMC." Sawyer chuckles. "That true?"
-
"Used to, and call me a flunkie again, I'll make you hit your head so hard you'll have an IQ worse than a flunkie"
-
"Sorry. I'm just not a fan of mercs. Or ex-mercs. But I do want money." Sawyer pulls out a cigar. "What would you want? A bit of brains more than brawn? Stealth over guns blazing? That's what I can offer."
-
Edited by JayTea: 12/15/2015 11:13:21 PM"Sounds like a merc. And I already can sneak, shoot, fight with my fists, and take hundreds of bullets without so much as flinching. Oh, I also work for URNA asshole. Watch it" [spoiler]Hes also a master tactician lmao[/spoiler]
-
Sawyer's eyes turn dark. "That was... Nothing." He frowns. "Anyways, if you don't require my services, just take my card. You need help with anything? Call me. Again, you're perfectly capable. I'm just sayin', bud..." He slides his business card on the table infront of JT. It reads [i]Aaron Sawyer, Professional PI.[/i]
-
[b]He slides it back[/b] "Sonny, I'm close friends with earths best sniper, best swordsman, and a shapeshifter, and can take bullets with no effect. I've no need for the card"
-
"Don't call me Sonny." Sawyer gets up and puts on his duster, not before extinguishing his cigarette in JT's duster, making a burn mark. Sawyer walks out.
-
[b]In an instant, he is knocked on his back, JT hovering over him, and he curbstomps his face, and he awakens in a dark room, tied to a steel chair[/b]
-
Sawyer moves his hands around, and the rope falls off the chair. Sawyer gets up. "You were chaffing my hands, bud. Let's play nice here."
-
[b]A man swiftly forms from a pile of nanites, a knife in his hand, and he stabs your left knee with a speed near unmatchable, pushing you into the chair[/b]
-
Sawyer rips it out, and kicks the chair behind him. He's good at hiding the pain. "Now you're just not listening."
-
[b]He pulls a second one from the duster, burying it deep in your chest[/b]
-
Sawyer removes it, in great pain, and a little of it can be seen. "Let's talk, ok?"
-
[b]He swiftly punches your face, knocking you over[/b] ((Martial artist))
-
Sawyer gets up, and a glint of red flickers in his eyes, but he returns to normal. "Listen, you're a pussy if you don't stop taking potshots at me and talk to me like a real man would, you bastard."
-
[b]He pulls an AK-47 off his back and shoots 3 rounds into your left knee[/b] ((Weapons expert))
-
Edited by VertheAlt: 12/15/2015 11:46:54 PMSawyer mists around the shots.
-
[spoiler]He a Nanocyte or a watcher? Only a watcher can do that, and he is in pain, so he can't do it. [/spoiler]
