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2/15/2016 3:16:48 PM
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That's the man I thought I was speaking with. Glad we've gotten that little identity crisis cleared up.
English
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"I've no idea what's more surprising; I'm wearing robes like the reaper and you thought I was the cowboy, or you thought I was the retarded ass merc standing next to me" [b][i]JT says, gesturing to the cowboy, lacing his words with sarcasm. [/i][/b]
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Names and faces blend when Wilson's half-drunk and catching you up on things.
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JT "Ah, fair enough. Anyways, so what brings the famous Wolf to New Terra?" Frontiersman "Wolf? Son of Blackjack?" JT "Yeah, that's him" Frontiersman "Interesting"
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Edited by Trashcan Jesus: 2/15/2016 4:16:14 PMHunting's good from what I hear.
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"Hunting what, exactly? Jobs possibly?" [b][i]JT asks, The Frontiersman still watching Wolf intently, analyzing his movements. [/i][/b] [spoiler]Frontiersman is way too uptight for most scenarios by the way, if you were wondering what's going on with this retard. [/spoiler]
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[i]If he had seen Blackjack, Wolf's body language was almost identical. It radiated a calm, calculating coldness, unfazed and in complete control. [/i] Heard there's war. With war comes the work.
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"Ah, yes, Venus and the Kings of Mars. Truly an idiotic war, if you ask me. Just means the NTR has to step into this shitstorm and quell things" [b][i]JT says. The Frontiersman, having met Blackjack once, takes note of this, before parting from the duo and looking for Wilson. Maybe he can get information on certain instances from him, he thinks. [/i][/b]
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[i]Wilson's hulking frame is seen marching towards them now, at a decent pace. His machine gun remains in firing position, all of his other weapons holstered. His cloak billows behind him, the American flag tattered, faded. The eyes of his suit glow an eerie red, and he stops in front of the Frontiersman. Standing at nearly 7 feet tall, he cuts an imposing figure. [/i]
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"Mister Wilson, it seems you enjoy killing, yes?" [b][i]The man asks, taking note of his figure, the flag, the eerie eyes, and the rest of the armour, as well as the armaments he is equipped with. [/i][/b][u]A well armed psychopath, haven't seen something this bad since... Ever[/u][b][i] He thinks to himself. [/i][/b]
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Nah, I'm -blam!-ing Bob Ross painting forests. Of [i]course[/i] I do. It's like watching that asshole kid in the class do really well, and then you -blam!- up their project as they walk in.
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[b][i]He lightly chuckles, but straightens up once more. [/i][/b]"I know of a group to slaughter, few thousand people, you in?" [b][i]He asks, pulling a specialized M4A1 from his back[/i][/b]
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How much you payin'?
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"Ten grand, and I'll cover the costs of ammo"
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Good enough for me. How soon?
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"Whenever you're ready, I'll get a ship to grab us"
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Let's ride. [spoiler]New post, I assume?[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]yeah. You want to make it, or should I? It's an assault on Mars. [/spoiler]
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[spoiler]make it yourself. I'll reply once it's up.[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]post is up. [/spoiler]
