Tsuiraku-town, part 3

[Hours]

[OOC: I'm trying to be a bit consistent, it's moderately possible, but even if he wasn't the one to do this last time on Dasuke, Seishi does in fact have a terrible accent.]

'Yeah, that'll about do it... Kid. You could be useful to me but I just can't see your sort being interested in much other than your own profit, so I don't honestly see why I shouldn't let this pixie here--' Gault cut himself off mid-derogatory comment. There was a noise at the door, a loud one and it seemed to have been a pretty common thing in these parts. That painful accent and the smell of something burning...

It sounded something like 'FOOLAME VORREE'.

It accompanied by a flash of dull light, the front windows and door of the liquor store bursting inwards, a sudden rush of heat and smoke filling the place, by the looks of it the already scorched insides of the store was on fire, the whole front of the shop had been bombarded from top to bottom judging from the view up the gaping hole of the roof and god help if the fire gets to the quickly brewed spirits that hadn't had time to age in this relatively new liquor store.

It had been a pretty precise job, a few more fireballs on the debris pile near and in front of the door made it dangerous to leave by the front, a back door or side window was safer. However to add insult to potential burny injury there was a sound of galloping hooves: Martin had left a conveniently untied get-away horse right out front of the store.

The first thing that came to mind, Gault let loose into the room: 'I really hope you have insurance!'

[Jack Rothwell]

Martin clambered out of the liquor store window coughing and wheezing from the sudden explosion, using his newly acquired toy to steady himself as his lungs noisily finished emptying themselves. He cast his reddened pair of eyes around for the offender as he mouthed a diatribe to himself.

"**cough**cks sake! Is this the most hated building in Tsuiraku-town or what?"

Faintly, through the ringing in his ears, he picked up the rapidly fading sound of hoofbeats. He turned the corner and his eyes stopped where his rental steed had been only a couple of minutes ago, he cursed again. There was the culprit thundering away, nearly at the end of the street, the light picking a glint from the horses saddle bags that announced the wine he'd purchased was still inside. Martin mentally commited murder. The people running around the streets in a panic made a clean shot at the arsonist impossible.

"Well, it looks like subtlety just went out of the window..."

The would-be arisocrat dropped the cumbersome yukki staff and ran over to the nearest hitching post a few establishments down the streets. Through his clearing vision he unlimbered one of the horses tethered there, hoping that the owner was otherwise occupied, and vaulted onto the animal as acrobatically as he dared. He jammed his heels into his steed, which gave a whinny of complaint and lurched forward in a sickening motion that made his headache move down to his stomach. He called back to the other men exiting the burning liquor store as he broke away.

"He turned right at the end of the street! Hurry!"

'Martin' set his features into a snarl that would've been unrecognizable on his face only moments ago. The bastard had nearly blown them up, had cost him his deposit on a horse and was making off with his afternoon drink. He might've had a head start but there was no way he was getting away scot free.


Edited- sorry, forgot.

[Graybeard]

OOC: We have a problem here.

The would-be aristocrat dropped the cumbersome yukki staff and ran over to the cart his companions had arrived on. Through his clearing vision he unlimbered one of the horses tethered there and vaulted onto the animal as acrobatically as he dared.

By the time Martin goes to get the horse from the carriage (which isn't really a suitable riding horse anyway), it isn't there any more, because Ace has already set off in it to retrieve Layla and Zachary. See about five or six postings above:

By this time, Joe, who'd been off running errands somewhere, had arrived at the scene, and Ace spent a quiet minute filling him in on what had happened, as best he could remember it. "Oskar's right, Layla's not going to like this," he concluded. "I'd better go get her." He set off in the carriage ... but not without noticing the other low-life casing the joint, for Luminosita alone knew what reason.

Retcon needed. Once you've done that, yeah, a chase scene sounds like all manner of fun ... although some strange things might happen on the way.

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Giving people a chance to catch up before I post again. I'll try and drop something tomorrow if no-one's written by then, just be editing it in here in that case. Hours, you got any preferable outcome for dealing with your npc assassin type guy?/OOC

[Graybeard]

"You know, days like today make me think about how relaxing a career change might be," Layla smiled as the two women prepared to settle up for lunch.

Galina was curious. "How's that? I'd think that winemaking would be about as relaxing a profession as I could think of. Why would you want to change away from that?"

If you only knew. "Well, remember that I'm mainly in town for magic lessons from an illustrious sifu." She smiled again and winked at her friend, who was rolling her eyes. "The wine is just to help me earn a living while I'm here, then it's back to the security business. But yeah, that's kinda my point: winemaking is relaxing. I'm almost thinking I'd rather do that for a living and say screw all the security crap. I could use some peace and quiet while we -- I raise this little guy." Another smile, and a kiss for Zachary.

Galina returned the smile and kissed her daughter. "I know just what you mean. It's almost tempting for me to stay here too, if I can get my husband to move. Other than what happened to Professor Kinabalu, which was probably mob-related and has nothing to do with us, compared to working for Mrs. M, things are so nice and peaceful..."

-----------

That's funny, Ace was thinking. The magic lab had a note on the front saying that it was closed for lunch, but it didn't say where the occupants had gone. That meant Layla wouldn't be there. Presumably she'd gone into Tsuiraku-town with her friend to eat. Grumping mildly about having been forgotten (for which Layla would make heartfelt, and ... impassioned, apologies later), he settled in to wait for her return and watch the passers-by.

One of whom, a very few minutes later, was approaching on a horse at great, decidedly reckless speed, scattering the people in the street. The explanation dawned almost immediately, as Ace recognized the low-life who'd been casing the liquor store when it was robbed. It didn't take but a moment for him to put two and two together, and do something he'd never done before in public.

He still had the borrowed pistol jammed under his belt. Now he drew it, sighted carefully, and fired ...

... At the horse.

[Hours]

Gault limped out of the fire, slumping himself up against the front of the next building beside the liquor store, so far in the last few days he'd been shot by a yuuki staff, had a bed fall on him, and now was in a burning building and coughing up smoke. There was no way in hell he was moving, for more reasons than that.

The lowlife assassin who had been casing the place rode hell for leather through the streets, at least untill a bullet thudded its way into the horse he was riding. As a creature about twice the size of a man and by default much tougher, the horse didn't tumble down from a single pistol shot, it just kept moving, but as it was just some rental nag it didn't exactly make itself accomodating for its rider as it practically screamed and veered off course as it panicked and bled its way through the busy streets.

Much more dangerous was a wounded but not incapacitated horse, Seishi jumped off while working a slow fall spell, hitting the ground and stumbling, nearly tripping once or twice before charging straight into the crowds of people running around to avoid a gunfight and a horse that was freaking the hell out in the middle of a street.

[Jack Rothwell]

Even through the anger heating every cell in his body Martin still felt a pang of sympathy as he lurched around the corner on his 'borrowed' mount and saw his ex-horse careening wildly across the street. The panicking animal sent the pedestrians fleeing to every point of the compass, creating a virtual roadblock as it reared awkwardly and lashed out with iron clad hooves. A man who'd hadn't been quick enough to step out the animals path let out a cry and fell, clutching the fresh imprint on his face.

"So much for plan A..."

Martin gave up any pretense of delicacy he had left and leapt off his horse as it began to slow. He hit the ground hard, breaking his fall shoulder-first and turning it into a roll which brought him back to his feet. He immediately had to weave out the way as an oversized man who was running at heart attack inducing speed nearly hit him in a full-on collision. He lost another few seconds trying to pick out the rapidly disapearing assailant through the crowds. He mentally face-palmed as he spotted Ace with the smoking gun in his hand, looking back at him in a way that clearly suggested he'd seen that unarisocratic display of ahtleticism. There might be explanations needed later.

The 'fop' (hard to call him that now he was minus his jacket, hat and wearing a shirt freshly streaked with dirt) broke after the arsonist as fast as he was able, acutely aware that there were still far too many people blocking the way (not to mention that they were witnesses) to get a clear shot at the man. And besides that was the obsticle of the animal...

He approached the distressed horse at a run and with a curse that he wasn't cold-hearted enough to put a bullet in the creatures head. He'd only have one shot at this; if he messed up the street-sweepers would be scooping his brains into a bucket later that day. The horse sighted him as he closed the distance, let out a strangled whinny and aimed a foot squarely at the man's chest. Martin leaned back hard; turning his sprint into a slide that took him under the animal's rearing body. He tumbled over twice, pushed upwards to his feet and clambered back into a run, not daring to look back to see if the horse had taken offense to the flashy display.

The chase was on in earnest now. Martin brushed, pushed and shoved his way through the disapating mob, yelling an 'After him!' to Ace as he went.

[Graybeard]

Who's this? Joe wondered, looking at Gault. [OOC: As far as I can tell, they've never met, except maybe in ships-in-the-night circumstances at the airship terminal. If I misremember, this can be retconned easily enough. /OOC:] Well, whoever he was, he looked like he'd been one of the good guys here -- and he also looked banged up. "Come on," he said. "You people look like you need some medical help." That was true enough; Stevo was groaning and rubbing a leg that had every appearance of being broken, and even nearly indestructible Oskar was covered in blood, although it didn't seem to be affecting him much, of course. "There's a clinic nearby run by the weirdos from the Temple of the Divine Dwarf. They're better than they sound. Let's get you patched up."

----------

Ace counted his rare venture into gunplay as about half successful, maybe two thirds, which was better than the way things had been going for him lately (Layla excepted, of course). He hadn't been aiming to kill the beast, not that that was likely given the peashooter he'd fired, and he was actually rather relieved that he hadn't. A little veterinary thaumaturgy, and the horse should be as good as new. He'd successfully got it to rear and throw its rider ... but he hadn't counted on the man knowing a Slow Fall spell. Stupid, he cursed himself. That semi-negated the point of the man getting thrown. On the plus side, Ace now had a good make on him, and presumably, so did some of the otherwise panicked onlookers.

Now, if they just don't have a make on me... Well, "they" shouldn't have even been aware of who fired the shot. The crowd's attention had quite reasonably been diverted by the careening death in their midst. Only one pair of eyes was on him as he stealthily hid his gun -- although that pair was a surprise.

That "fop" is more than he looks like, Ace realized as his eyes and Martin's met. He heard the man yell "After him!" and take off after the retreating Tsuirakuan, but he didn't join the pursuit, because he'd seen something Martin had not. At the far end of the street, a pair of Tsuirakuan Homeland Security forces were materializing as though out of thin air ... and they were definitely focusing on the fleeing thug.

Ace tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible and watch what was happening down the street; Layla would want some reliable witnesses, after all.

-----------

Several blocks away, toward the park, Layla and Galina were parting company. "I'll let you get on to your rendezvous," Layla smiled. "I need to go back to the lab and meet my boyfriend. He's probably wondering where I went." Plus, I've already seen what I hoped to see here -- far more than I'd ever hoped for, actually.

"Sounds good," Galina smiled back, but then her smile evaporated. She paused to listen for a moment; there was a hubbub coming somewhere from the edge of town. "Hmmm. Sounds like there may be trouble back that way. Why don't you join me at the temple until it moves on or dies down?"

Layla thought about it. That was back in the general direction of the magic lab, and Galina was right: it might be ... inconvenient. And she had to face it: she was a great deal less likely to run toward trouble, rather than away from it, while she was carrying Zachary, than she'd been five years earlier. Or am I just getting old? "You're on," she replied, and the two women and their children headed for the front of the Temple of the Divine Dwarf.

[Hours]

[OOC: He would have seen him around, so he'd probably know enough to say Gault's a hanger-on of his Layla.]

---

Gault fixed a gaze at Joe, and he honestly had no idea who the man was. Either way he was offering him medical help, and Gault wasn't looking pretty, even if he wasn't as bad as the others he was still covered in cuts and bruises, there was a fair sized piece of splintered floorboard sticking out of his leg, thus the aforementioned limp. As far as his jobs went, this one was one where he got blown up, crushed, and burnt more often than normal.

'...Yeah, that's a good idea.' Gault levered himself up, grabbing Martin's dropped yuuki staff and using it as an improvised crutch to hobble his way along. If one thing was certain he didn't want someone so suspect to get ahold of what was essentially a man-portable cannon, so he figured he could add it to the other two he snatched the other night.

'Lead on.'

---

Seishi was moving like a man who hadn't just been in an explosion or fallen off a horse, and by now his lead had let him slip from the core of people panicking and running every which way and had slipped into a steady current of people who were running away, apparently a crazy horse and a fire were more interesting and eyecatching than another tsuirakuan who had just happened to cause the ruckus.

Still he knew that the local law had a really damn good response time, as such he needed to lose any pursuit, and fast. The road was full of people who were getting away, but gunshots and magical explosions had made the streets a little crazy, and people who weren't on the streets were packing against the windows to take a look at what was going on, or people were moving in to the buildings to take shelter from all the running about.

The assassin slipped his way to a small undertow of people who clambered into a building with a large signboard reading 'Authentic Tsuirakuan Baths', an establishment of questionable authenticity. Pretty clear as to why, lots of steam to make it hard to see, lots of change rooms to hide in...

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Is there a description for Seishi floating around anywhere?/OOC


Martin broke into a temporary clearing in the press of people and cast his eyes around wildly, he'd had his quarry in his sights only a few seconds ago. All it had taken was a particulary tall oaf in the mob ahead moving directly across his line of sight for the assassin to vanish.

"Gods damn it..."

At least the crowd was calming now they were some distance from the gunshot and the spazzing horse. He pushed forward, squinting in the windows of the nearby shops for a clue as to where the attacker had fled to. He saw multitudes of rubberneckers still gazing out onto the street, non-descript shoppers milling through garment shops, grocers and a blacksmiths (which he immediately made a mental note of). But there was no-one even vaguely resembling the man he was after, either he'd taken to the rooftops, vanished into thin air or...

The man who called himself Martin drew to a halt as his eyes stopped on a bathhouse not more than a dozen feet from where he'd last seen the man. The building was better sheilded against the prying eyes of the public (which made sense, who'd want to take a bath in full view of the street?). It certainly represented the closest thing to a safe haven in the otherwise open area. He reached a decision, if the arsonist hadn't escaped into that place he could chalk it up to bad luck, go back and retrieve his wine (if it wasn't smashed on the cobbles, of course) and catch up with the vineyard owners later. He stepped into the establishment, tugged free the short walking stick he'd jammed under his belt and greeted the pretty looking young woman behind the desk at the entrance. She looked back with raised eyebrows at the mud which decorated him.

"You've come to the right place sir."

"I've no doubt." He clinked a couple of coins onto the desk and swept past her. He'd check the place from top to tail first, he could get cleaned up afterwards.