Bust heads, leave em dead [open]

[Jermaine Manning]

Time: 12:00am


The smell of Jump city smelled fresh and clean... with a small hint of pizza. You could say whatever the smell, feel, atmosphere of Jump City was, you could say without a shadow of a doubt, it was much better than Gotham. Sure, based on it's reputation, it didn't have memorable villains artists, but that was nothing a few fires here and there couldn't solve. After all, this was Jermaine's first night officially as a citizen of Jump City and after being in Gotham so long, he had a crime feel following him a mile away. However, instead of terrorizing the people of Jump City, he would be terrorizing a police officer who happened to make trouble for one of his men. Of course, being the boss of a small cut gang, he decided that he would handle things personally... well, with him tied to a chair and surrounded by Jermaine's "employees".


Normally, the most traditional places to do it would be at the docks or in a back alley or even in a hangout of their own. However, the storage facility just happened to be open and Jermaine and his friends let themselves in with their guest of honor in hand. Jermaine swung a Louisville slugger baseball bat round and round, glaring at his victim.

"A lot of people has been complaining about you. They said that you patrol the streets a little... too well. I mean, ya don't except bribes, stop small-time offenders, give tickets. Most of those crimes, especially the speeding tickets, are placed on my guys!" He shouted. Of course, the officer protested which ended him up with a crack in the shin. Jermaine would be content if he broke his knee. After a couple more hits with the bat, Jermaine yawned and shook his head.

"I'm done with this dude. Not even worth incinerating." He said dryly. He held the blood-stained bat behind his neck and waltzed around, knocking on storage garages.

"Do what you want with him. I'll help myself to the treasures this place has to offer." He said, skipping and softly humming.

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

Watching the upstart street gang was...

Okay, this was boring, yes there was a police officer tied up in a chair, beaten over a few times with a bat, but that was in every cop and/or gang banger movie ever made, and it was over done, even what was being said was over done, all so very much over done as to now suddenly seem almost humorous, and it made Martin wonder if he might possibly be insane after all, for even thinking of coming down here like this, but then he really needed some cheep, expendable muscle for the foreseeable future, so this was a necessary departure from his lone wolf style as Vorac, and this new little group was perfect for his plans, unlike the more established gangs in the city where where all into their niche, staying low, and holding their turf over anything else, since between the JPD's Quick Response Teams and the Titans being a career criminal of any real level wasn't as profitable a job here as it was in other places, as such, there where no crime bosses or crime lords, or really any mafia presence in Jump at all, so there was a kind of power vacuum in the middle levels of evil's hierarchy, being that there where only small time crooks, and gang members, and super villain's...


Martin was going to exploit that very fact now.


"This stuff's as valuable as salt water to a thirsty man... However I can hook you up with the real ticket to ride in this city, straight to you're own little slice of heaven, or hell if you prefer it..."

Dressed in his drab green, almost gray suit, and wearing a large round pair of sunglasses with special lenses that let him see out no matter the lighting, but just looked black on the outside, he spoke softly, but clearly, his voiced changed thanks to a small device he had around his neck that was invisible under the black tee shirt he wore.

Stepping out from behind a corner, hands loosely at his sides and open, Vorac became flesh before Jermain as he waited for a response, that would either be good, or bad, and either way, Martin was ready.

After all, that's what the wrist mounted tazers under his sleeves where for...

[Jermaine Manning]

Jermaine checked cash registers, donation boxes, and also pennies for the poor. Basically anything that wasn't worthless went inside of Jermaine's pockets and Jermaine's pockets alone. The storage garage's locks would be picked and they would come back for the stuff later. Right now, Jermaine was content with the things that he had swiped. After all, hard work was hard work, even if it was things that was stolen. He checked his watch and rolled his eyes. Everything was going great, this was one of those robberies/kidnappings that rarely went great. They had gotten past the burglar alarm perfectly, the cop was snatched up without a moment's notice, everything was just perfect. With Jermaine, however, perfect was boring. By boring, he meant boring! Usually, in the streets of Gotham, he would be chased by the cops and he would have dropped the kidnapped victim's corpse at the windshield of the first cop car that was close to him. Not in Jump City however. In Jump City, things were going so smoothly that it was disgraceful. This was both a good and bad thing in his eyes; He could get rich in this city but nobody was there to stop him from getting rich.

That was, until, Jermaine heard an eerie voice in the shadows. A grin spread on his face as he was thought that it was a person here challenging him. Probably a vigilante who was going to tell him how evil he was, how they were going to bring him to justice and all that Jazz. By the way the voice was talking, it was though this person was as demented as him. That was a good thing though... right?

"Sounds like a ripe job, kid. But, how do I know that you can be trusted? Hell, how do I know that you can bring me to this riches?" Jermaine said, banging his bat on the storage garage. A little too loud however, as he was sure that his men could hear him a mile away. Jermaine scanned the person whom the voice belonged to and bit his thumbnail.

"Besides, why would you want a person like me? Got a rap sheet on me?" He asked. He wouldn't be surprised if he did have a rap sheet on him, since all his information was accessible with the click of a mouse.

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

The kid comment he could let slide, as with the blacked out glasses, and voice changer, guessing his age was hard, so while Martin was almost ten years this guys senior, it was a moot point for what he needed.

"You don't know if you can really trust me, but then that's part of the game, isn't it?"

Vorac smiled slightly before he pulled out a small foil package and held it out to Jermaine; "Consider this a gesture of good will, from my employers." inside the package was twenty thousand dollars in various bills, unmarked, and randomized, and Martian figured this was the perfect thing to get the ball rolling.

"If you're interested, in some meaningful, under the table, cash up front, right up your alley kind of work, I'll be back here in two days and you can give me your decision then."


Martin was banking on this punk taking the offer, since cash up front was something few could pass up, the odds where in favor of this deal going the way he wished it to...

[Jermaine Manning]

Jermaine wasn't a person to trust random strangers though the same went for random strangers; Jermaine wasn't a person to be trusted. He was more aggressive with his and being double-crossed by somebody he worked with would ultimately result in a horrifying death complete with the third degree burns and all. After all, Jermaine wasn't a person who liked to be jerked around by employees. When Martin started giving him one liners about whether or not Jermaine could trust him, Jermaine rolled his eyes and tapped his foot. That was aggravating, not knowing if he was going to get stabbed in the back later down the road.

"A game? Game for who? Trust me man, I'm one of those people that you don't want to make an enemy. If you ever thought about double-crossing me...damn I won't even want to think about how burnt of a crisp I'll make you!" He scoffed.

Jermaine examined the package that was handed to him. He inspected it for a second and relieved it from his hands. If it had an explosive, that wouldn't be much of a problem for Jermaine. After all, he could blast down practically anything in a fiery explosion and remain unharmed by one. Still, he unwrapped the package to see green gold. Huge amounts which made his mouth water. He grinned and closed the package. He wouldn't let his men know about the package and he damn sure wouldn't split it with them.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Come here in two days? Why wait so long? Why not rap about your plan now? I don't even know your name."

Jermaine wasn't going to blindly shake his hand with another person he didn't know, but he would blindly spend his money. Him, and him alone.

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

Martin smiled thinly at the guy and then spoke lowly, the voice morpher matching his inflections with the deep warble perfectly; "It's the game of life, but then it is really mutual-exploitation isn't it? And trust me, I'm not one to cross either, however, if we can trust each other so long as we both do what we promise, I can see no reason why the two of us can't make plenty of money, so long as you give me what I need and want, and in turn I can deliver to my employer as well."


The fact that his employer was the infamous "Board" which was really just himself, carefully posing as a cloaked and secretive trust of three members, was not something Jermain needed to know about, as either way, he would be well paid for services rendered, and that was all Martin needed, some cheap, expendable muscle to do grunt work, and create trouble for the powers that be, no matter if it was local law enforcement (which it was clear Jermain and company had no issues with dealing harshly) or the Titans, who had he knew, hampered his efforts on other fronts and had left himself in a slight lurch with Wilson, on a matter of personal pride.

Good thing Martian knew when to keep his pride in check.


At Jermain's last assertion however, Vorac's mood became dark, so dark that a large black, stock looking, but totally customized Beretta was suddenly pressed to Jermaine's gut, right where his left kidney, as well as a goodly part of his intestines, would get to enjoy a nine millimeter hollow-point or three.

"You misunderstand Jermaine... I have business elsewhere, and will not return to Jump for two days, when I return, I'll come back here to this spot, with another gesture of not just my employer's good will, but likely my own, and if the money isn't quite enough, I'm sure I have a few toys that might interest you... And I would consider sharing that gift with your people, since you'll need them for a few of the jobs that I need you to do, but understand this, above all else; Thugs are cheap, a dollar a pound in fact, and while I don't care if you whack a cop, I'd have no issue ripping your guts out a hand full at a time with a few dozen hollow-points, in a rapid fire fashion..."

A matching black Uzi suddenly clicked into play, the ugly barrel aimed at Jermaine's heart, as Vorac looked at the slightly shorter man a moment before taking a step back and slowly re-holstering/hiding the guns as he looked at the street punk for another few moments.


"Two days, if you're not dead or in jail by then, come here and talk to me, and do so after you've spoken to your gang, because you are going to need all the help you can get for the first real challenge I give you... So be ready."

And with that, Vorac backed into the shadows and was gone...




{{{I think we can fast forward two days here, wanna?"}}}

[Jermaine Manning]

Jermaine was all about working for another person; after all, he was a hired gunman. Working for others, who worked for others was common also but it gave him a chill down his spine. Usually if a job was done wrong, they'd want revenge and it would come from different sides of the city. Was he going to let go of the money? Why would he? Parting with money was something that he couldn't -- wouldn't do. Looking at this employer, he was debating whether or not his life was on the right team.

"It's all about making the green. I don't see why we should make anything personal. It would bring a whole lot of unneeded heat, from the police and from some crime fighting delusions. I'm not about to serve time while you sit with an accomplished face."

Maybe the authorities of Jump City was just sleeping today. Maybe they were resting and didn't feel like investigating a missing cop or a group of guys in a stolen vehicle, or even a storage facility that had been broken into in the dead of midnight. All that could have been the fact, which brought paranoia to Jermaine's mind. What if Jump City's forces were tougher than any force that Gotham could come up? Gotham had two big forces, a rodent and an old guy, but what did Jump City have? He hoped not to find out.

Jermaine was ready to step forward until he felt a cold metal freeze his skin. His muscles tensed and his face twisted into a frown. Being in front of a barrel of a gun was way different than behind the gun. Who the hell did this guy think he was? If he didn't read his file, he should have. Jermaine was the notorious criminal, Pyro! He killed for the hell of it! He found the Joker to be a revolutionist. He would burn an orphanage down for a smoke of a highly expensive cigar, claiming that the flames gave the smoke a different flavor. Now? Now, he was feeling the hot strike of irony.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, you fake, creepy, pathetic... Clint Eastwood!" Making jokes when he was nervous wasn't Jermaine's strong suit. He tried to relax and slowed his breathing as his fist clenched. If he threw a projectile explosion at the guy, a chance he would get shot was high and the guys would come, see the mess, notice the money and leave. The last people he wanted to come help was the police -- that was a trip back to Arkham.

"Two days. Giving you two days. Please believe I'll be here waiting for you. Try this again and I'll show you my weapons... and no, they don't have barrels."

*****Two Days*****

After talking with his men and twisting the story (instead of getting paid, he told them he was threatened), they agreed to help. He robbed the facility again once more and awaited for his friend. He could say without a doubt that this guy had balls. If he tried to scare Pyro again, however, he'd get neutered.

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

Having dealt with his business elsewhere (the primary thing a fund-raising gala in Gotham, hosted by that twit of a slimy womanizer Bruce Wayne, the other a cloaked shipment of vital goods to L.A.) Martian returned to Jump, and again donned his special Glasses and vocal morpher, and the suit of Vorac, and returned to the storage facilities on the night he said he would.


With a couriers backpack slung over his shoulder, Vorac rounded a corner and then stopped, as he looked at the back of Jermaine and most of his crew.

Dear god these people where sloppy, leaving their backs exposed.
Did he have to train them as well as pay them?

No he didn't have the time, and they where now as he was seen in the under world, a mercenary, and mercenary's where paid to do a job, how they did it, and how the went about it, was their affair, and if they where sloppy, well then...
They where dead mercenary's and the dead kind didn't get paid now did they?


"Ah-HEM!" he cleared his throat, the bassy warble sounding almost like the deadly grunt of a monster or devil, as it should.

Once he knew he had their attention he slung the bag off his shoulder and tossed it to the ground in the middle of them before crossing his arms and looking at them for a moment then speaking; "As I promised, there's the first payment, three thousand for each, with five thousand for Jermaine... Also, there is an unmarked panel van, long wheelbase, with a set of spare keys hidden under the back bumper, inside are brand new M-16 A1AR5 polymer stock bodied assault rifles, with the three mode switches built in laser pointers, and fold down fore grips, some of the only ones of their kind, five point seven five millimeter for that extra punch and each one has a little brother in the form of a custom MP-5 Ex Nine Mill parabelum rounds with the forty round extended clips doubled up for speed reloads and with the screw off barrel ends so you can shorten it for close up work. and there's plenty of ammo for all of them, including the M9's."


It was enough hardware for a full squad of Army grunts, with spares for what ever reason might come up, plus about twice the ammo the army would have entrusted to said squad.
If these idiot street thugs couldn't raise some hell with that, then he should start looking else where for help...



{{{Dude Im SOO sorry it took so long, my muse for this guy just up and died suddenly, but its back for now}}}

[Jermaine Manning]

There was a feeling in his gut that just screamed a bad idea. Working with a guy he didn't know spelled trouble all over the situation, however, he had to discard that feeling. He had agreed to help the guy and he had taken his money, so there was no going back. Still, he raised an eyebrow when he was around his new employer, had that lump in his throat whenever he spoke, and a chill went down his spine when he saw the bags of money. Was Jermaine, the pyromaniac hit-man Pyro, scared of a gun and a computer-altered voice? Hell no! But there was a difference from being scared and being cautious. He carried his henchmen around (since they carried his guns around) and kept them by his side. He hadn't given them a run-down on this guy simply because he hardly knew anything about Martin himself. Looking at his guys (three men, one woman), he sighed. Hired help was so hard to find nowadays (back in Gotham, the only good help was taken by the costumed villains and usually killed off). The henchmen wavered and maneuvered, looking at the top of the building and their backs. God they were hopeless, but they were human shields so it was all good. Finally, they heard Martin from the shadows.

A bag was thrown to the ground and immediately, the henchmen jumped to it. Looking at it, they listened to what their employer had to say as Jermaine took a cut from the bag and picked up the high-caliber weapon. He looked at his men and back at the guns and the money. These people were in no league to carry guns like this. He would get them "off-ed" and hire other help. Better help. At the meantime, he would let them enjoy their little moment since they all looked like fat kids in Willy Wonka's factory. As for Jermaine, he would have to gun the information on Martin. After all, he still didn't trust him entirely. Would you trust a person who put a gun to your gut?

"So...'boss' , what would we be doing in this mission? You're paying us but you're not speaking. Like, what the hell is your plan? Got a cop you need taken care of? I mean, pretty stupid if you're giving us money but not an assignment. We could take it and run, like dude, we have the weapons to back us up."

Jermaine snapped his fingers and the thugs waved their weapons around, keeping Pyro in their peripheral vision. They covered all his corners as he was still on end about having a gun to his gut.

"Oh, and last time we ever had contact you had to punk out with a gun. Let's chat, face to face, man to man... to man to man to woman to woman."

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

Vorac looked around at them in a calm cool manner, his face only covered by the glasses, which hid his eyes and most of his cheekbones, but not his mouth, which twitched into an amused smirk at this "turn" of events...


"How sloppy do you think I am? Honestly this is childish, if you cannot conduct yourselves in a business like manner, then keep the dammed toy's and I will look elsewhere for help..."


At that a soft yellowish tint covered him head to toe, a shield of energy that would protect him from the bullets they might fire at him, if they didn't heed his next comments well: "As to the plan, I thought it would have been nice for you to simply enjoy the moment and all the shinny new toys, but if you want to get down to business, then here's the first job I have for you."

Pulling a small E-Tablet from inside his jacket, he held it up as the screen flickered to life and a picture of Mega-super-E-mart flashed.
"The parent company of this business bought a sizable shipment of top of the line computer parts and accessories, as well as some brand new video-game consoles. The hardware is what I'm after, my boss wants the electronic parts for his own plan, so tomorrow morning at two AM, half of you are to make the hit, the delivery truck gets there at one thirty, at two, you go in, take the marked boxes, and shoot up the store, thats what my boss wants done, and while you're doing that, I will be making another set of items vanish across town... The other half of you are going to make a run on the First National Bank, smash and grab, in and out as fast as you can, and with lots of propriety damage, don't worry too much on taking a lot of money, but whatever you can get with ease, do that and the police won't be able to deal with it all at once, and they won't know what hit them."


This was mostly a dry run, but the hardware would indeed come in handy, later on, in the mean time, Martin wanted to see just what they could do, and likely, he would see a lot of culling from the herd, either from Jermaine or himself, before the week was over...

However Martin also knew that sooner or later, Jermaine would have to be either put in his place or put down if he persisted in trying to have a pissing contest over all of this. Which was incredibly stupid, given the money the thug was making.

It was not a game Martin would play, and it was not a game Jermaine could win, should Martin chouse to play it...

"Now then... Is everything up to you're demanding standards?"

[Jermaine Manning]

Jermaine's skin crawled every minute he spent in this warehouse. Jermaine would tag-team with Martin now, but it was for a moment. He would soon get his new boss back, not personally but all for business. Soon, everyone had a hit... even fire-bearing thugs.

Jermaine had to sneer when he was straight out lectured from his employer. Not even his parents chewed him out like that and even if it was for a short moment, Jermaine could already feel his blood begin to boil. The boss basically told him that he didn't need Jermaine on this mission, which made Jermaine feel that he had to be on this mission, regardless of the pay. That was just the way Jermaine worked. Twisted and backwards, but what could you expect from a person who grew up in the slums of Gotham City?

"Don't worry, I just might." He spat. His henchmen looked at their boss as if he was serious. They would like nothing more to get the free stuff and get the hell outta there without doing any work. Who liked doing work? Of course though, Jermaine wouldn't have them make a fool out of him, so stationary in the warehouse they stayed.

"Yeah, enjoy the money and toys kiddies. While we're doing that, uncle "hidden-face" will give the signal for the boys in blue to pull their pistols out and flash their badges while we sit here and realize that the damn guns were less powerful than BB's." Of course, this wasn't the case. The guns were real, though it was just Jermaine's time to be an asshole to their new employer. It was better for him and his crew to know of the situation before things turned sour. For some reason however, things turned sour often for Jermaine. A lack of getting a job done smoothly perhaps? Or maybe, Jermaine just loved getting into trouble.

The guys stood and listened to their assaignments. This wasn't the first time Jermaine had to do something such as this, but he detested multi-tasking. However, there would be some shooting involved so that brightened Jermaine's mood.

"Party-pooper. I like it when the coppers know what hit em'." He said with a grin. Still, Jermaine had his orders, money, and supplies. He couldn't back down from this now -- everything would be carried out by the book, regardless on his feelings toward the new boss (which those feelings swam around suspicion, anger, embarrassment, and a small dose of fear). He patted his henchmen on the back and checked their weapons. Along the way, he patted his hoodie pocket and felt the money rolls. Everything was in place, set in stone, all they had to do was just carry it out -- something Jermaine was good for. He had an idea that his employer believed that he was second-rate, so to basically spit in his face, Jermaine stood erect and gave him a standard military salute.

"Don't worry boss, everything will be taken care of. Don't you worry ya pretty little head on this mission, you put your guns and money in the hands of the best!" He said. A henchmen that stood on his right nudged him and whispered in Jermaine's ear. He had to slap himself on the forehead. How could he forget?

Jermaine hadn't been in Jump City for more than 72 hours and already he had a murder job on his hands. The thing was, however, he didn't know much about this city. Every city had it's cops and the boys in blue didn't send chills down Jermaine's --or Pyro's --- spine, but something else did. Vigilantes.

"So, boss," Jermaine was beginning to hate calling him that. "Before we go, what kind of security Jump's packing? We know the handcuff-brigade patrols the city, but what about the real freaks and maniacs? Ya know, the 'V' word."

He waited a few seconds and rolled his eyes. Oh to get under someone's skin! "If you didn't know, I'm talking about the obvious, vigilantes."

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

Vorac looked them over, the black glasses hiding the disdain and impatience he held for them, his mouth turning up slightly in a dark and knowing smile as he listened to the thug rant and postulate and preen before his men.


There where however a few details to address now; "If you think this is some massive trap, then walk away now and keep the toys, however know that if it was, I would have already sprung it, and you would all be either dead or incarcerated right now... And trust me Jermaine, by the time your employ is over with me, everyone in Jump will know who you are, and I'm sure than unlike in Gotham, they will have more fear of you then of many others before you."


This was of course, a calculated risk for both of them, however, Martin knew of course, that the over all risk was much lower to himself than to Jermaine or any of his fellow thugs, despite what the pumped up pyro thought of himself, and what he was able to do, or in this case, NOT do, but for the moment, only a slight nudge was needed in keeping him in line, since letting him know the truth of how much power Vorac could wield over the mutant, was not only not needed yet, it was not wise so early in the game.

No, he would serve his purpose and then if he lived, he could enjoy his rewards, and if he died, well, then there where plenty of others who could take his place.



After the final comments where made, Martin looked over his shoulder for a moment then back to Jermaine and his crew and then shrugged; "The Teen Titans are the only major worry, however if you're fast, they won't be able to catch you, and trust me, if they catch you, they will find a way to stop you, and we don't want that now do we?"

[Jermaine Manning]

After all this, Jermaine felt kind of relieved that he met with Martin tonight and got his job assaignment. Not that he needed money, but he needed something to do rather. This was his second -- going on third -- night in Jump and he felt that it didn't have that feel that he was so used to in Gotham. A moment there, he thought that Jump had no criminals and he would be the only bad apple in the bunch. Well now, obviously, he was wrong. He had his mission and he would carry it out with the utmost precision like he would do with any other mission, regardless on his opinion and relationship with the employer. His relationship with Benjamin Franklin was good enough, which gave him inspiration alone.

"OK, alright then. We'll be back with your stuff before the J.C.P.D will realize what hit em'." He said, reciting what his boss had told him before. Not tipping the police would make the job a lot easier. Boring, but a lot easier and as an employer, Jermaine had to follow it.

A lump dropped into Jermaine's stomach. There just so happened to be vigilantes in Jump City (it seemed like every city had them nowadays), and from the name there were more than one -- working as a team more than likely. A low, sinister laugh, almost like a growl, crept from Jermaine's throat.

"New playmates then? Well, if they can't catch me then they'll realize that they have something to worry about in this grade- 'A' city, and his name is Pyro!"

Always confident, loud, and abrasive, Jermaine couldn't show any sign of worry that he might've had with the Titans. He had to be confident that he could beat them -- no matter how many, how powerful or possibly how insane they may have been. He aimed his assault rifle at the door and opened fire, pointing to it and watching his henchmen rush out.

"The job will be done before ya know it. We haven't failed a mission yet!" With that, Jermaine headed for the door. Haven't failed a mission yet....

What a liar.

[Martin Christopher Taylor]

With all the noise this guy made, Martin could see why he was considered so dangerous; he seemed to lack any true sense of cause and effect aside from finding actions that either destroyed things or killed other people, and he really did not seem to have much more forethought than how to enjoy the next hour or so of his life, and with his perverse enjoyment...

He was going to need to be dealt with sooner or later, but the odds where starting to stack against him living long enough for Martin to worry himself with the details.


Vorac slowly crossed his arms and nodded; "See that it's good and messy Jermaine, I Want them to know you where there, not by seeing you, but by seeing what a mess you left behind... I'll be back here in two day's to get the goods, remember; two AM tomorrow morning, night after next I'll be here to collect and pass on whatever more work there might be, in the mean time, don't get caught or killed."

At that the partly masked playboy and academic powerhouse turned crook and mercenary, gave a British style salute before he turned and walked away, other things needed to be done for his master plan to work, other details to address, and of course, to cover his actions, there was a social life to maintain...


{END}