Just Another Day (Ary)

[Legion]

Just another job. That was what was rolling through Patrick's mind as he drove towards the target in the beater of the car he was in. In the weeks after all the shit had gone down at 1033 he had found somewhat to his disdain that life moved on as usual. His faceless employer hadn't at all been disturbed that he had essentially told them to go fuck themselves, rather it was another debt that Patrick had built up to pay off. Patrick really wondered what that meant at all, seeing as he figured he was pretty much doomed to do this until he died or his use to whoever it was employing him ran out. Patrick growled at the thought.

The Job he was doing now was in the same line as a lot of the jobs he had been doing recently, violent and somewhat deceptive. It was the type of job that apparently, according to Mr X, his only contact with his employers, that Patrick was best suited for. He didn't particularly want to kill, but his vehemence against the idea had been fading since vengeance had once again gripped his eyes. While that desire may have been fulfilled, the desire to kill, well, not so much. This was just what life was like at this point.

The neighborhood that Patrick was in was fitting with the beater, gangbanger-esq car he was driving. The car wasn't his, though while his truck wasn't too much better in condition he had more pride then to drive the tin can he was in on a regular basis. Who had the car belonged to though? Some higher up street thug in a gang, rival that to his target tonight. The owner of the car was still alive, but the plastic bag in the glove box contained the man's hand, so not for too much longer if Patrick had any say in it.

Yeah, Patrick's job was exactly what it sounded like. Kill the man he was after, another high level member, in the rival street gang and make it look like their rivals had done it. Why was he supposed to do this? Patrick didn't know, he never did. But Patrick kept a record of all the jobs he did, for his own sake, hoping that one day he could connect the dots and see what company might have an interest in the jobs he was doing getting done.

The thought of pondering the connection of the jobs came to a roaring halt when Patrick saw the man he was supposed to kill walking down the seemingly empty and quiet street. When he saw the man Patrick's eyes turned from their deep green to a golden color as he reached under the seat and pulled out a suppressed MAC-10, one that conveniently enough had also belonged to the previous owner of the car. Emotionlessly Patrick pulled up to the man and in a blank american accent called out the name of the man he was going to kill. When the man looked and Patrick confirmed that it was him Patrick pulled the gun on him.

The man only had time to reach his hand into his coat but it was too late as bullets ripped him apart. As the man fell to the ground Patrick leaned over pulling the hand out of the glove box. Getting out of the car Patrick kept his gun trained on the man as he reached for his neck checking for the pulse that wasn't there. The irishman wasn't concerned with leaving fingerprints because a few months back he had cut them off. There would be something there, but the print would be inconclusive to anybody, except the fingerprints of the man Patrick was setting up, as he was careful not to drip any of the man's blood out. Patrick had done a good job of draining the hand, but you could never be too careful. After that Patrick made sure a few prints found their way on the handle and trigger of the gun that Patrick planned to drop in the trash a ways off.

Patrick closed the bag that held the man's hand and looked over the scene again, making sure that everything was taken care of and there was no one in the area. It was dark, so Patrick wasn't worried about anyone IDing him as opposed to the man he was trying to set up, but it paid to be careful. So long as there wasn't anyone in the immediate vicinity he'd be fine. Just another lovely day in paradise...

[Aryanna Katashi]

Perhaps she shouldn't have been trolling this part of town, but when it came time to feed that hunger inside her, well, there was no better place to seek out her prey....so to speak. It was much easier to deal with people that had some kind of drug coursing through their veins, it made the much more compliant. Not to mention, the men in this neighborhood often fell into her little web of lies and coy glances, expecting fully to drag her into some back alley and have their way with her.

It never ceased to amaze her at the sheer stupidity of the average human being, and each time this thought crossed her mind, it made her all the more thankful that she was not average. No, Aryanna was something more, and though she had no clue what that something was, she knew that it was special. It was different. It was.....unique. Oh sure, the people at the orphanage, even a couple of the doctors they had sent her to, used words like "insane"...."psychotic"...."sociopath"....The list went on and on, but not once did she ever believe that. She knew the real reason they used such words.....fear.

They feared her. They feared knowing that she was better than them, better than the rest of the kids she had grown up around, better than the general populace of the human race. It was so much easier for them to define her in ways that would make her sound bad....A blemish on the face of humanity. It helped them to sleep better at night. But in the end, it really didn't matter what they thought. She knew the truth and one day, everyone else would as well.

Dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, she made her way down the seemingly deserted street. It of course had not been her original attire, for when she had walked out of the house this evening, she had been dressed in a lovely white t-shirt with some pretty little design on it, one that she could not recall right this moment. But the problem with her hunger was that in order to sate it, things tended to get a bit messy. That of course being the case this time around, as the white shirt, which had been so pristine now laid beneath her sweatshirt coated in blood and grime from the small bit of struggle the boy she had selected put up.

Had she killed him? No. She had not. So far she had only managed to murder one boy, and that had been back at the orphanage in France. To date, she had done rather well with herself, only leaving her victims a bit drained, confused....Not entirely sure what had hit them. A wonderful thing, blood loss. The effects it had on the mind were quite remarkable.

Turning the corner, she felt a slight wave of euphoria slip over her. It was a result of the blood, she knew that, and likely some after affect of the drugs that had undoubtedly been coursing through the boy's system. Only meant that he was a heavy user, for it to be able to affect her in such a way. Perhaps now he would straighten up and walk a more, narrow and righteous path?

The voice in her mind laughing at the idea and causing a small chuckle to escape past Aryanna's lips as well. They never changed. People did not change. It was just a matter of fact and one that she counted on as a means of survival. Because, lets be honest, that was all this was....life....Nothing but a game of survival, and so far, Aryanna was winning.

Though no sooner had she resigned herself to a slow, but steady pace back in the direction of her home, than a series of gunshots rang off. The sound of them echoing through the rather deserted part of town. A brow arched in curiosity as those strangely colored eyes glanced out from under the shadows of her hood. A curious tilt of her head as she came to a stop along the sidewalk and simply watched the events transpiring before her. Was she phased? No. It was another clear example of survival, a clear showing of one man being more worthy than another. Was she intrigued? Slightly. One could not simply watch such an event take place and not be just a tad bit curious, her one true flaw. Though she said nothing. The situations did not warrant it, and her own instincts told her that silence was, in this moment, her best option. So, she simply stood there, motionless, her hands in her pockets and waited....curious how this little game she had just stumbled into would play out.

[Legion]

Gun in right hand, bag with a hand in his left Patrick's eyes, turning back to their green tint surveyed the area. Making sure that there were no witnesses, or at least none that were talking and going to say anything other than this was just your typical gangland assassination. One section of the road was clear, however the other side was not. On his side of the road, on the sidewalk he was standing he saw a small figure standing, now in front of him, thirty feet away.

She was wearing a hood, and not exactly in the light, but still, though the conditions Patrick could see her eyes. That was certainly not your average eye color. Other then that the only real thing that Patrick could tell was she had different eyes and she was in face a she, at least her build seemed to suggest that. Age was uncertain but to Patrick that didn't matter. He raised the gun in his hand pointing it at her chest. She was potentially a threat, and would be dealt as such.

"Turn around, hands on your head," Patrick said, in unaccented english, no need to say anything that might make him identifiable, "There's a street light five feet behind you, move into the light."

Patrick needed to get a better view of her, while limiting her visibility of him. While he wasn't at all hesitant to add her to his body count if she proved to be someone who needed to be eliminated, he didn't particularly care to add to the death toll if at all possible. As far as Patrick was concerned now, she probably shouldn't have seen his face. He wasn't in any direct light. That might be enough to allow her to live, however there was the question of how much she saw. Did she see him with the hand, using it to put fingerprints on the gun and body? That might be something to consider in this impromptu sentencing among other things...

[Aryanna Katashi]

She hadn't been so foolish as to think that there was not a weapon on his person, her eyes had fallen to it almost instantly...but she still said nothing. The only real reaction that he got was a slight, upturned grin when he raised the gun and pointed it at her chest. "Tsk tsk tsk....Guns, so impersonal and messy. Not to mention there is always that hassle of running out of bullets and having to reload." That French accent thick and all too evident as she spoke.

She shrugged, not a trace of fear or nervousness in her tone. His words? Oh, they were noted, but she did not obey. If anything, she actually seemed to get a tad bit offended by what he had suggested she do. "First off, I am not a dog, and gun or no gun you aren't going to talk to me like I am one. Secondly, you must be a complete idiot if you think that I am going to turn my back on you while you are pointing that thing at me."

That's what she said...

"Haha, touche."

A mental grin given to her friend's words as they echoed through her mind, though not once was she distracted enough not to keep her focus solely upon him. "I get it, you want a better view of me, which I am more than happy to oblige you with. But let's try and be just a smidge nicer. Shall we?" A slight arch of her brow as her hands, which were still stationary, would open up, palms out to show that she wasn't hiding anything within them.

Slowly she would take a step back, and then another, mentally counting down the number and calculating the distance he had suggested the light was at. If he wanted her in the light, then he would get it, but she wasn't going to turn her eyes off of him. Once she felt the light upon her, saw it casting her shadow down upon the dingy sidewalk, she would slowly raise her hands and push the hood back from her head. Long, perfectly straight, dark locks would fall freely now around her shoulders. Those eyes, that had seemed odd before, now seemed to capture the light, bringing to life the colors within as well as the intricate designs etched within them. "There, now you see me, and I see you. Still going to shoot me?"

[Legion]

She had a french accent, sounded like she was young too. The way she spoke about guns made him wonder though. Did she have any experience with them? That was an initial question that came to his head, paranoia pushing that question forward in his mind. But the way she spoke, regardless of the answer to Patrick's first question, it made him wonder if she had killed before. Her manner of speech seemed to indicate so. That she was a hardened killer perhaps? Or was she just trying to fuck with him? Patrick wanted to scoff at the idea that she seemed to think that she was a hardened killer, but Patrick knew that he hand been about her age when he had a sizable number of kills under his belt. It would be wise not to forget that here. That and she didn't seem to show any fear about having a gun pointed at her by a man she had seen kill someone else.

She didn't obey him and well, that made Patrick's finger a little itchy. In all honesty Patrick didn't know why she was still alive. Normally any sign of hesitance to his commands would end with a bullet to the head. The irishman wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't done so here yet. She was being defiant and she had even called him stupid. It wasn't a hit to his pride so much as the fact that she was defiant, and not following directions that made Patrick want to just pull the trigger and get on with his night. Though Patrick had to admit that he did almost let out a laugh at he telling him to be nicer. Perhaps the only thing that saved her though, was the fact that she opened up her hands, showing she had nothing in them, and at least stepped into the light.

"Not a dog huh? Perhaps, but you should know the gravity of the situation then. You do as I tell you," Patrick said calmly, his green eyes changing to a golden hue as he blinked as he spoke again seriousness more present in his tone, if not politeness, "or I will take care of the loose end I'm presented here with here."

And that was it. There would be no more debate. He had given her an explanation. She was no mere dog then, given commands without being told why. Now she knew, or at least that much should be clear. Or if she really was that stupid then Patrick would relieve her of wandering aimlessly in such a world as this.

"That depends, Are you going to give me a reason to shoot you?," Patrick said calmly answering her question with another, gun still trained on her, "Now take off your sweatshirt, put it on the ground slowly, and turn out your pants pockets."

Her eyes, he had to admit were odd. In the light, more so, colors dancing with each flawlessly. It was certainly intriguing, Patrick had never seen anything like it. That still wouldn't save her though, if she couldn't give him a good reason not to shoot her...

[Aryanna Katashi]

She had to choke back a scoff at his words. She at least knew to take this situation semi seriously, though in all honesty, she didn't want to warrant it the attention that most people would give. She wasn't going to tremble in fear, she wasn't going to tear up and beg for her life, no matter how much the situation might have warranted such a behavior. That was an act saved for average people, and Aryanna was, as stated before, anything but. "I don't appreciate you underestimating my intelligence. I understand full the gravity of the situation, but you need to understand that I don't take orders from anyone, not even some guy with a gun pointed at me." She never let her tone rise above that of a casual and calm manner, though her eyes continued to dance within the light, a bit more of the orange fire within them starting to outline the designs that laced within her gaze. "The situation, as I see it, is that you currently have a gun pointed at me, and every intention of blowing a hole through my head. I would say my chest, since that's where you are currently aiming, but even with that caliber, there is the slight chance that I could survive long enough to identify you. Its minimal at best, a one in a million chance, but a chance just the same. Shot to the head, no chance."

She kept those eyes locked on him, she heard every word he said, and she would show that she was no threat, but that didn't mean that she was going to bend to his every whim like some puppet on a string. No. So he had killed a man? Was she supposed to care? Was she supposed to be shocked by the outright display of violence that had taken place right before her very eyes? He seemed to think she should. So clearly, they had a little problem of miscommunication going on here.

"So, you can keep that gun pointed at me, and you can keep trying to show you are the alpha male in this situation if that makes you feel better. But understand that I am not some normal, everyday, average person you can bully around just because you have the upper hand currently."

Slowly her hands would reach down, fingers curling in the lower hems of her sweatshirt and pulling it free, holding it off to the side and allowing it to collapse to the ground. Now, standing there in that white shirt, blood staining down the front of it, the neckline and even upon the shoulder. A long silver rosary necklace hanging around her neck and dangling down to just above her stomach. Those eyes breaking away from his as she looked down at herself, only to grin and turn a rather amused gaze back to him. "Oops. Appears we have both been rather naughty tonight."

Next came the pockets, nothing in them to bother hiding. She wasn't so stupid as to carry any sort of weapon in such an obvious place. "There, happy now?" Those eyes dancing within the light. She had noted the change in his own eye color, but honestly, compared to her own, it was nothing special...At least not in her mind. He could at least pretend normalcy when he needed to.....she on the other hand was stuck with her's every moment of every day. "As for a reason not to shoot me...What do you want me to say? That I am good person? That I won't tell anyone? That I have so much to live for?" This time she did scoff, a little roll of her eyes as she titled her head just slightly. "Sorry, can't give you a reason other than the fact that I won't tell. I could care less if you killed ten people, they probably need it anyway. Think of it as.....exterminating the rats." Her lips pursing slightly before she would shrug.

[Legion]

As she spoke Patrick had to fight back a chuckle. This girl certainly seemed to be full of herself, to the point of arrogance it seemed. While Patrick never really underestimated her intelligence he strove to make it abundantly clear that he was in control. If she took that as a judgment on her intelligence, well all the more interesting, even more so that she'd say it. Was that perhaps a desire to be acknowledged? Her whole telling him the situation, as well as the the part about how she'd have no chance of living if he shot her in the head was amusing. While Patrick wanted to laugh he chose not to, to keep her talking. She seemed to only be confirming his idea that she seemed to need some form of acknowledgement.

A mental grin was given when she proclaimed that she was not normal, that she was not your "average" person. Sure, she had implied that he was some kind of bully, with some desire to feel the role of alpha male, as if it was going to get him to lower the gun most likely. It did not. Nor did it phase him. The whole thing was rather interesting, Patrick's mind locking on her saying she wasn't a normal person, with some sense of pride in it.

Patrick kept his unamused look as she pulled off her sweatshirt. Blood covered it, reinforcing the fact that she too had indeed been naughty this night. Her look of amusement as way she spoke further signalling to Patrick some desire to be acknowledged, perhaps by someone she perceived as her own kind? Then again she did seem somewhat arrogant. Which led to the question of how that fit into the equation.

"Not normal huh?" Patrick asked, "The way you say that, are you proud of that difference? Casually flaunting your callus view of life, your, disdain if you will, of the life of others and your willingness to destroy it. Vigorously showing that you're not afraid of me. Flaunting what you perceive as intelligence, going so far as to tell me I should shoot you in the head as opposed to riddling you in the chest, which I might add by the way, with this caliber and this gun's rate of fire, is meaningless where I choose to shoot you. But that's beside the point. What I really think is that you need to somehow convince yourself that your difference from everyone else is in someway meaningful. That you are better then other people for it. What, do you have some set of voices in the back of your head telling you to kill? Did people call you a freak at one point? Is that what's making you try to get me to acknowledge how much different and, perhaps, better of an example of human existence you are? And is that because you perceive me to be just as fucked up, or different, if you'd prefer, as you?"

She had followed all of his more recent commands so at this point he didn't feel the need to shoot her. Also he was apt to believe that she was telling the truth when she said that she wouldn't talk. That was another point in her favor.

"And oh, by the way," Patrick said offhandedly a slight grin now forming on his face, "I never asked you to give me a reason not to shoot you, I asked you if you were going to give me a reason to shoot you. And no, I don't underestimate intelligence, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't think of me as some common school yard bully."

Patrick really didn't care what she thought of him. He had just added that in as an after thought, mirroring, mimicking what she had said before about her intelligence, adding the quick little stab in there after correcting her on his question. No, at this point he wasn't going to shoot her, probably. But he couldn't really give an answer as to why he had felt the need to poke and prod. It was not the type of think he had done in quite some time. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that. But at the moment it seemed amusing enough, regardless of the outcome and so he'd wait and see what happened...

[Aryanna Katashi]

Aryanna stood there, and she silently listened. Not because it was polite, but because his assessment of her seemed rather amusing at best. What did he want her to say? That he was right, and she was an arrogant bitch? She didn't need to confirm that, she already knew she was. But she also knew that she had every right to be. So he could ho and hum his way through that little speech all he wanted, but nothing he said was going to put a dent in the steel walls that Aryanna had put around herself. Nothing was going to break down even a fraction of her self control or her determination.

So yes, she let him talk, because apparently that made him feel better, to try and poke and prod at her, to gain some form a response. But when he was done, the air falling silent as the words drifted away, she found it to be her turn to speak a bunch of meaningless bullshit that neither one of them would bother to remember come morning, if it even took that long to forget. "Do I need attention? Yes, I do. But my need of it does not mean that I am undeserving of it. I may come across as an arrogant, self centered and somewhat cocky bitch, but that's just how I like it. Far too many women take offense to the term, pathetic really." The final line spoken as a bit of an afterthought, more thinking out loud than directing it at him.

"As for your questions? I have a voice in the back of my head, and it mentions killing every now and again, but trust me when I say that the thought is shared mutually between it and myself. I do not battle against it, I do not try to overcome and be a better person. I am what I am, and I will always be such. Was I called a freak? You see my eyes, you see the way they move, the lines drawn within them. Do you really think I made it through life without there ever being a harsh word uttered toward me?" She shrugged, somewhere deep, deep down inside it hurt to think of all the things that she had been called, but she no longer acknowledged that part of herself. No, that part was cut off, dead as far as she was concerned. "I don't need to make myself feel special, I already know that I am. And what I perceive as intelligence, is intelligence. You do not grow up the person that I am, doing the things that I do, by being stupid. But then, judging by the fact that you were busy planting evidence and covering your tracks, I would say you understand exactly what I mean." She held that little grin in place, not phased by the conversation. To her, it was a simple matter of coming to a mutual understanding of sorts. One that resulted in her being able to go about her merry little way, and him the same.

"Do I think you are fucked up as me? I don't know you well enough to pass judgement, but in my experience, there is nobody quite as fucked in the head as I often seem to be, or so the doctors have always told me. In better, more polite terms of course. And I am not treating you like some school yard bully, if I were, I would have walked away and not even bothered to discuss anything with you. I am treating you as a methodical, precise killer, which you, so far, have proven to be. Just because I don't quake in fear and because I am not afraid to speak my mind on the matter, does not mean I do not appreciate the situation, or you, for what it is. But like I said, if you are looking for somebody that is scared of you and your gun, scared of dying and all those other pathetic emotions that come into play in these types of scenarios, well then mon cher you picked the wrong girl." She would die before she would be that kind of girl. The kind to tremble in fear. The type feel her heart race, to feel her breath quicken. No, she would never be that girl, at least not in a situation so common place as this one. "Oh, and before you say it in some further attempt to poke and prod at me, yes, I do rather enjoy hearing myself talk." She shrugged. "At least what I say is something worth listening to, no?" She chuckled softly and would move to brush her hair back from her face, though her eyes remained focused upon him.

[Legion]

"It's different at least," Patrick replied to her question, grin on his face. The whole question had really been seeded in arrogance, proving that what she said was true, she was indeed arrogant. Her little monologue admitted to that much. It would appear that her ego was too big for Patrick to shatter with words. But it had been a fun attempt nonetheless, and she proved interesting indeed. Perhaps for the better that she was at least resistant to his prodding, not easily going to collapse, but then again, anyone who was a budding killer hardly was. There may have been something underneath, that much seemed evident, as in Patrick's experience no one ever became a killer because of a good already fulfilled life without problem.

One thing that had made him chuckle in her little monologue though was that she admitted to having a voice in her head. That really had been nothing but a shot in the dark. Well, he had to admit that most of the killers his age he had known had some sort of mental deficiency but still. Interesting stuff.

"Word to the wise though," Patrick said, lowering the gun in his hand for the first time, eyes turning back to a deep green, "The easiest people I've ever hunted were the arrogant ones."

Patrick wasn't really sure why he was telling her that. He generally wasn't one to help a killer, or a budding one nonetheless. He didn't particularly care to kill anymore, nor help anyone else along his dark path. But she was young. Perhaps that had something to do with it? Patrick really didn't know. It was just something he had said without much of a thought.

After he had spoken he would walk to the still running car, putting the hand in the glove box, and the gun under the seat. No one, save for her, most likely heard the shots but he was still in the middle of the street. As interesting as this meeting was, it wasn't a bright idea for him to stick around forever...

[Aryanna Katashi]

She would shrug slightly. Arrogance did make killing easier, when it came from somebody else. She knew that. Though she didn't tend to kill the people she attacked, she knew that it still made for an easier target none the less. "Yes, well that is assuming that the person who is arrogant, isn't also aware of the weakness it causes." She reached up and tapped her temple lightly with her index finger. She knew she was arrogant, but she also was not so much so that she didn't realize that she was at risk of being killed should a person set their sights on her. That, in her mind, being where the intelligence came into play.

"The trick is knowing when and what to be arrogant about, and when to watch your ass." She shrugged once more and would then cast a glance down to her sweat shirt which she had discarded so carelessly onto the ground. Finally able to take her eyes off of him since he was putting the gun away and moving toward the car. "I am assuming I can put my sweat shirt back on....Unless of course you are enjoying the view too much." She chuckled. She knew that there was none of that going on in this moment, but it still was fun to poke and prod just as he had chosen to do to her.

The fire in her eyes taming down, leaving them that usual pinkish purple shade with the golden designs intricately laced through them. "Was a pleasure meeting you by the way. These little side tangents that often present themselves often tend to be the highlights of my evenings." Granted, not often did she find that she was able to have such a conversation with somebody, nor did she often walk upon a situation quite like this, but any distraction from the mundane was more than welcome in her eyes, just so long as the end result favored her in some manner.

[Legion]

"Awareness of a flaw can be irrelevant, especially if you wear your flaw on your sleeve," Patrick said with a shrug. If a person was slow enough and smart enough they could move in such a manner that it would be far too late by the time you knew they were capitalizing on that weakness. Patrick knew from personal experience. He had done it many, many times. Make people trust you, get information you needed from them, and when they were least expecting it stab them in the back or cause them to bring on their own destruction. At this point it was more like art to Patrick.

"Oh you know me," Patrick said rolling eyes with a chuckle at her sweatshirt comment. Yeah, that was the point. There was nothing of that sort going on her. Nor did she know anything about him. At the very least this meeting had proved somewhat entertaining. She was not a dull person at least, with her own little quirks she was far less mundane then the average person.

"Well gotta get going," Patrick said to her little good by, a knowing grin crossing his face, "Got another loose end to tie up. See you around."

Of course he didn't ever expect to see her again, but that was just common banality. Had to be said. And of course by loose end it meant exactly what she would think it meant. Another corpse would be made tonight. This time though he wasn't going to shoot the man. He was going to chop him up in the manner that his rival's gang normally would. Seemed fitting really. The man had just "killed" a member of a rival gang. He would be getting his own come uppence.

First though Patrick had to ditch the gun and the car, different locations though. Fortunately for Patrick he had parked his truck near where he was going to ditch the car. Wouldn't be a far walk. And then, well then it was play time with his handless friend...