@mistress_sangria: "Hmm..." Smiling as he turned back to the bar and ordered a Yuengling. "Maybe we aren't so different after all..." Taking a long drink from the bottle.
The_Assassin_'s forum posts
@mistress_sangria: @_creed_: He ignored the Raccoon for the most part, waiting for him to finishing speak before he remarked with a quick smirk."Shouldn't you be rummaging through a McDonald's dumpster instead of sitting in a bar little fella?" Before turning back to the woman at the bar. "Names Mike." As he turned his body to face her and leaned against the bar. "And who might you be?"
@mistress_sangria: He had to admit, he was surprised she'd heard him over the noise in the bar, not that he showed it. He simply smiled and cut his eyes towards her. "Nothing... I usually don't spend a whole lot of time in Gothic is all."
@_creed_: @mistress_sangria: The master archer nonchalantly strode into the bar, always a good spot to gather intel. His light blue eyes surveyed the room as he made his way to the bar. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, unless you count the talking raccoon at the bar chatting up the pretty redhead. "This city..." He whispered, subtly shaking his head as he took a seat a few stools down from the odd pair.
@mistress_sangria: "Gothic City..." Surveying the city lights as he stepped out of the cab. "Can't say I've missed this place..." While it was no gem in it's own right, if Gothic had anything, it was an underworld. Which meant SOMEONE among the masses would need someone to do there dirty work for them. He didn't usually work small time, but he'd been out of the game for a while and this seemed as good a place to start up again as any...
The pearl white Ferrari Aventador gracefully came to a stop in front of the illustrious Hellfire Club, it's driver exiting without a word and tossing the keys to an eager looking valet as he strode confidently past the crowds of on-lookers and photographers. To them, he was Joe Manganiello, and they'd never know any different. His disguise was perfect. He moved like Joe, acted like Joe, he'd ever practiced for weeks to sound like him. He casually waved to the adoring and swooning fans of the real Manganiello in the crowd but didn't bother with the reporters. To top it all off, he even had the real Joe Manganiello's invitation to the Gala, which he promptly withdrew from the pocket of his specially tailored Hugo Boss suit. Never fear, Manganiello was alive, but he'd wake up with one hell of a headache in the morning. After ambushing him in his hotel room, the hired gun had meticulously applied his previously prepared disguised and assumed his role for the evenings events. The suit, while stylish, was really more of a weapon than anything. From top to bottom it concealed a hodgepodge of gadgets and weapons he might need.
Satisfied with the invitation, the killer was allowed in, the velvet rope removed just long enough for him to slip inside, away from the uproar of the crowd outside into the elegance of the club itself. Taking a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter he idly made his way through the crowd, mingling with the other guests and carrying on just as the real deal might have, while simultaneously searching the crowd for his target, his hand resting on the small, integrally suppressed pistol hidden away in a custom fitted inside the waistband holster. "Lets see if I've still got it..." he thought to himself, a devious smile hidden behind the glass of Champagne he'd raised to his lips.