sirenspull_logs | Tut-tut, it looks like rain!

Entry tags:

Tut-tut, it looks like rain!

Who: Damon Gant and YOU!
When: Sunday morning to the afternoon
Where: Between sector 4 and 5
Summary: With his first day here, Gant is more than ready to start assimilating himself with the rest of society, but hearing that this is an island, he's determined to see the beach, no matter how foul the weather is! Feel free to catch him between train-stops 26. Elmer Stop and 1. Ravenwood Stop, he'll be happy to chat you up along the way. Or even at his last stop walking from the train station past Better Afterlife Mortuary, Cinnagrad Cemetery, McKinley Zoo and towards the Aquarium.
Warnings: Only if you're allergic to happiness

The rain, rain, rain came down, down, down in rushing, rising rivulets... but Damon Gant was quick to the task of keeping dry, dry, dry. After all, his lightning-shock of hair would have deflated under the drizzle, and he couldn't have that, now could he? The old gentleman was in his Sunday's best; his glaring suit of sunset orange that he lived and died in. It was a difficult color to miss, especially amongst the grim transit public. They were either quick to look away so his radiance wouldn't burn into their retinas, or their gaze was fixated on him like moths to a whimsical flame.

Gant had that sort of magnetism to him. Enough that before entering the train station he managed to barter for a ticket and sweet-talked another into giving him their umbrella. Charm and benevolence were Gant's most powerful weapons in strange places he had never been... they weren't too shabby back home either. Without a doubt, Gant had the sort of air that wriggled itself into your heart where he would latch on and never let go. Some even went so far as to symbolically sell their soul to him.

For now there was no need for such a strangle-hold on anyone, Gant was his own man. Free of the fools he left behind, free of the hushed rumors and lies, the doubters and good-for-nothings, the objectors and persecutors, the sentencing, the shackles, the bars, the memory of the long green mile, and the memory of the last deep sleep. He had been executed but knew when he had awoken on this isle not between heaven or hell, but Canada of all the silly places, that his last words to the court held ever so true.

"You see, if I listen carefully, I can hear it right now...

...The sound of a new beginning!"

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"All boarding for stop 15, Turner," a woman announcer calls over the subway's intercom. He sits to the rear of the train car by himself, cane in hand. A heavy black trenchcoat is fixed about his person to prevent any unsavory types from thinking he'd allow them a chance at his wallet, as well as to serve as a way to blend. Anything other than street clothes would have attracted too much attention. And while he detested anything less than formal wear, the rain also made it more practical.

Business was pressing; Hence, the older man found himself on the metro before long, as it was the speediest way to reach his destination. The mass public transit system was not exactly what he had in mind when forced to travel, but as it was one of the easiest ways to maneuver in the city to where business called for the moment it would have to do. He'd been certain to call ahead to have his driver meet him there, in any case.

He stares to the window though he can see nothing but blackness, welcoming the relative quiet between the few occupants scattered towards the front of the car. There was only two or three other passengers in this particular part of the train, though he was lucky in the respect that most people at this time were currently at their jobs or preoccupied with their work, as they rightly should be. Hopefully he would not be disturbed...

That was a pipe-dream Gant was intent on throwing a wrench in. It had been mid-2016, the last year he saw his old colleague alive. What a tragedy it had been that the year would end with the prosecution's most prized asset would go down in flames in the same manner that he did.

Gant had sympathized with Von Karma when he too took the guilty verdict. They were just victims of blue-suited, spikey-haired dumb luck.

While the sophisticated and sterile old man was certainly inconspicuous to the untrained eye, Gant had had something of a homing radar for the people he enjoyed harping on most. Manfred von Karma was his favorite sport.

"Freddy? Is that really you? Freddy von Karma!" Gant's massive presence seemed to light up the entire lonely car. The temperature itself rising several degrees. He stood before Von Karma, completely elated at the sight of him.

"Stand up you saucy goat, why I haven't seen you since they sent you off to the pearly gates!"

There's a slight stiffness in his body which arises from the man's very presence though he was not readily aware of it quite yet, the elevated heat making Von Karma sweat slightly beneath his collar. The sudden presence of an glaringly orange-suited man does make him draw up his eyes in shock, jaw slackening for a split moment before he pushed up at the last possible moment. Unfortunately the subway car jolts and sends him falling face first into the man's suit coat headlong, hands splayed on both sides of that barrel chest like a nimble cat catching itself in the midst of a fall.

"C-cannot...be," he mumbled as he quickly righted himself, a red imprint from the other's massive button square on his forehead. He smoothes it away with one hand, frowning at the other with a calculating stare. Manfred was doubtlessly surprised.

"How long have you been here?"

The momentary stumble towards his person was like Fate slamming them together with the most pain possible. At least more-so for one side of the collision. Gant however, couldn't be more tickled to see the old blueblood clutch to him, only to push away with that over-sensitive knack for dignity.

Always sharp, that Freddy. He could make himself look refined whilst standing in the middle of a circus and none would question his aristocratic air.

It was only natural that Gant's first inclination was to muddle him up and ruffle his pretty peacock feathers. He clasped his gloved hands together, a look of ever-elated joy across his tanned features.

"Oh I just flew in actually, hoho~! Or rather I rode the lightning, to be perfectly literal. That poor baseball diamond didn't know what hit it!"

"T-t'ch!"

A haughty sound was echoed throughout the car as a faint throbbing from said collision began to annoy him like the buzz of a bee or some other stinging insect, lips thinning into the bitterest of frowns. He did so despise embarrassing himself in public, much less when around this behemoth of a man! Still, it's a bit unbelievable to think that Damon Gant, former chief of police, would be shadowing his steps here in a nonexistent City only months later after his own arrival.

"...You would."

He replied stiffly to that, eying him with a degree of suspicion. His ability to exaggerate was...profound.

"Hn. I suppose I should have expected you to appear sooner or later. This place seems to have trapped in a number of individuals here who are familiar."

"Speaking of which, I was just on the mobile gabbing to your Mini-you. Had to cut the moody boy short when I saw you shuffle on board." Gant clapped his hands once, practically giddy at the practically evil ideas spinning in his cybernetic head.

"Perhaps we could all have tea sometime! You have seen him, haven't you?"

Though he could imagine they weren't on very chipper terms. What with Freddy trying to get Worthy convicted for murder... twice. Oh yes, he had read the transcripts. It was like a soap-opera! They even cross-examined the parrot for Zeus's sake!

With odds like that, it was no wonder Freddy lost. The wild-cards were just too bloody stupid not to work.

Did he mean Miles? A pointed stare is given as the subway train comes to a brief stop, one of the many that would be between them and their destination.

"...You followed me." A heated glare the likes of which could melt steel is directed at the overly cheerful man, and had he been capable of hissing at that moment he perhaps would have.

"Fool. I have been here longer than you. How could I not?"

He'd rather not have to talk about such things given it was an obvious sorespot to lose to a dunderhead like Phoenix Wright. Especially if he had been plotting for the upside of fifteen years. To have such intricate plans unravelled so easily by such a moron was terribly laughable.

Edited 2012-03-26 07:42 (UTC)

"Only a teensy bit." Holding his forefinger and thumb just slightly apart for emphasis.

"I was actually already in the car ahead of you. Maybe you saw me first and stalked me here, Freddy." He insinuated with a jocular wink. He couldn't help teasing the man. he had to make up for the years they had spent apart since graduation.

Freddy would never return or acknowledge his calls. Or cards. Or invitations. Or flowers.

It was almost like he didn't want to be around him! But that just couldn't be so, Gant was sure of it. He was just coy as ever.

"I had to ask, the tension is just killing me."

If he wasn't careful he could have incurred the man's wraith in a heartbeat.

Most certainly not! He was a busy man. To think that he would engage in such rubbish was only telling how foolish Damon Gant was. He could make nice-nice with just about everyone but Von Karma.

"...Good," Manfred grumbled, folding his arms over his chest with that deep-lined scowl of his.

"You skirted my previous question. Why should I answer yours if you do little more than address me in a circumlocutory manner?"

That was the great challenge Von Karma presented before him. A man so impenetrable he could not be pierced by any manner. Gant's only weapon was sheer persistence. Von Karma was the great mountain, and Gant was the sea, ebbing away at his granite foundations since time was time.

He indulged every second of it.

"Now Freddy, I swear I told you. Just dropped in. As in today. As in this morning. As in 9:45am Pacific time." He knew all too well Von Karma craved only hard details, but prying him to ask for them was what he longed for.

Anything to keep him engaged. This was Gant's playtime.

"May I have an answer now? Pretty please? I'll dance at your next guilty verdict if you do."

Edited 2012-03-26 08:09 (UTC)

He was the icy tyrant punishing those below him with no mercy; Gant was the vibrant sycophant, ever trying to gain Von Karma's favor. They would clash on a consistent basis, neither managing to compromise the strength of will of the other.

"My name is Manfred." The snippy thing who called himself Von Karma growled out in annoyance, hating that inane little pet name.

"Hmph. So then swim your way back to where you came from!"

Taps his finger against his arm impatiently, before deciding a simple answer would suffice.

"Unfortunately I cannot avoid him, as he's taken to slandering me before I even got here. He is a coward and a fool to think he can thwart me."

"And I shant forget it either," Gant appeased to him only in a rather obtuse way. His penchant for giving diminutives were adorned to those who held his interest most. Very few were given in a derogative sense; that cowboy filth Jakey being one of the unfortunate.

"But why would I want to go and do a thing like that when I've come here to find all you lot having a little shindig without me! I thought for sure I'd be in Hades or Valhalla or possibly Purgatory with 70 virgins and my own harp and bathrobe, but it's Canada! I'm afraid we've been taken for a bit of a loop, old boy."

Yes, they were definitely shafted in a sense. But it was better than what those idiots probably hoped he'd be facing. Those of the defense and those dissenters from the force had bayed for his blood to burn in fiery torment. Oh how delicious it was that they would get no such satisfaction.

"We've paddled here in the same little boat on the river Styx. I wouldn't put it past them to have attempted to badmouth me in my absence as well. Hohohoho.. They certainly got all uppity when I crashed their little hug-circle of a blogging community."

Edited 2012-03-26 08:39 (UTC)

Considering his dogmatic and more than likely religiously Catholic background he would have been expecting...Well, not this. Not even by far! It was, of course, nothing less than a personal hell for him. Ending up in a place where his power of authority in legal matters did not even compare to what it used to be. But unlike what Miles Edgeworth may have wanted to think he did not and would not falter or become nothing. He would prevail, in the end. By his very nature he was meant to succeed. To be perfect. That was a Von Karma.

"A network that is...certainly lacking. I do not broadcast myself so openly without good reason."

A social network environment was convenient in some ways, but irritating in others. Granted he would not want to mingle with most of those who employed its uses and it was relatively useful in gathering information, but beyond that Manfred was very much the traditional meeting-in-person if the matter was pressing kind of individual.

"...What do you intend to do then?"

That very question was something he was contemplating himself the moment he opened his eyes to this cold, alien, maple-syrupy world. Gant took a seat then across from Von Karma and crossed his arms as he looked rather pensive for a moment.

"I haven't quite decided, to be frank. The Police force is out, for one. I've heard from the locals that their resources are rather inept. I was also greeted immediately with a pamphlet describing the dynamism of a company called AGI, looking for skilled applicants with a bawdy sense of conviction. Hard to say, really."

His thoughtful composure flashed away with a sudden grin, looking to his old friend for feedback, "Maybe I could become a massage therapist! I was always told I was good with my hands."

Making a clawing and groping gesture in the air.

Edited 2012-03-26 09:24 (UTC)

Craning his ear for a moment to hear the announcer say they were coming up on Crossroads, stop 10 Manfred relaxes, holding his cane out in front of him while he listened to the other man prattle on about job possibilities.

"Afterglow, Inc."

He mentions briefly, as if it was already common knowledge for someone like him. Gant was certain to be a force to be reckoned with only if he could be given the right person to buddy up to. It looks like he'd perhaps chosen the right one. It would just take quite a bit of convincing for Manfred to be agreeable to such a partnership.

He makes a face at that last comment however.

"I rue the day I see you in your skivvy shorts touching others in such a manner."

"Oh come now, Freddy! You could be my first customer. When's the last time you've been unraveled? Why I bet your tendons are like violin strings tightened to the point of taking out someone's eye."

The very idea was insidious. He had been just joshing as usual, but maybe, just maybe he would take it seriously just to watch his old colleague writhe beneath him as he combed out the rat's-nests of knots in his flesh.

His face almost visibly contorts at the notion, cane handle clenched until knuckles burn white.

"Most certainly not!"

Don't even think about laying a hand on me was the indicating tone in his voice. He wouldn't put up with this poppycock. So help him if Gant attempted to place even a finger on him he would not hesitate to lash out physically.

"HAA HAAHAHAHAHA! Old boy, you never cease to be my bright ray of sunshine on a cloudy day!" He continued that good-natured guffawing till he was wiping little flecks of crocodile tears from beneath his rose-colored lenses. Von Karma's fury was just the reaction he was after, and now that he had it he was spent.

For the moment.

"Alright, alright, maybe not. So why don't you tell me more about this Inc. Afterglow, is it then? My what a rousing title."

Had he been able to see outside no doubt it would be raining, like the prelude to a dreary night filled with unpleasant memories. It was a sure bet Damon Gant would manage to annoy him to the point of remembering all those little incidents back in law school. Just his very presence was enough to ignite some of the bitterness he'd managed to extinguish by means of indifference.

For the moment however he'll take the inquiry into account, before pointedly ignoring that little comment.

"...No doubt they had a greeting party for you at that wretched apartment building. Afterglow Inc, otherwise referred to as AGI, heads the island's entertainment sector. They're a corporation with control over many operations here, such as the night track on the subway system, the newcomer facilities, etc. Nothing is truly neutral here. Politics, government, law...You might say they have a hand in everything."

How much more unfortunate was it for Von Karma that the events that transpired during their romping school-days were still fresh in Gant's mind. And he had every intention of reliving them even if he had to drag his former classmate out kicking, screaming, scratching, and snapping.

The short description alone had Gant all the more interested, his pupils dilating ever so slightly as he stared with intense engrossment.

"You seem to know an awful lot on them, Freddy dear. In fact a company's whose reach touches far and wide seems right up your ally." And his own, "Do you perhaps work for them?"

And he would be met with the same granite-forced resistance, the wintry man's baleful glare enough to send most unfortunate beings scattering and far, far away from him. But not the annoyingly resilient Damon Gant. No; He somehow managed to bounce back no matter what sort of tribulation he was subjected to by Manfred's hand.

A twitch of his mouth is all that is displayed to make his acute distaste known, his sharply arching brows raising ever further as he opened his mouth to address the other man promptly.

"...No doubt that pamphlet would have told you half as much. I do. An affiliate, to be precise."

But sharing this information so readily may not have been...wise. Yet, he has nothing to fear from him, in any case.

"Why do you want to know?"

There was a flicker of vicious hunger in his demeanor, something of which he kept secretly tucked away. He smiled not in that jolly sort of way, but in a darkly serrated manner best suited for a fire-breathing dragon. Those great big green eyes flashed with a hint of forewarning; he was fiercely eager and without an outlet to ravish that white-hot energy on.

Large gloved hands folded in front of him, elbows resting on his knees as his tone lowered to a guttural entreat.

"I need to carve my niche, find an alcove, my berth, Freddy. You know how I get when my restless hands haven't anything to do." All that silly banter was gone, his teeth were out and he was famished.

"Put the word in for me and I'll make it worth your while and more. Even you can attest I'm good for it."

Edited 2012-04-22 04:07 (UTC)

The emptied car swayed slightly as they rounded a curve, the sound of the world rushing by echoing in his mind while he took that voracious eye into consideration. Gant was always very ambitious and self-serving, a man who would do anything to gain a way to his hedonistic pleasures even at the expense of others.

He kept himself posed straight-backed and stiff, legs crossing with both hands placed over the top of his cane while he considered the proposal.

Slowly his lips curved into a smirk as a plan began to form in his mind, wondering how their being allied might be to his advantage. Gant was a whiz when it came to making new friends and forming connections, but he lacked a certain...tact and diplomacy that Manfred possessed. He could very easily make Gant's people-pleaser attitude appealing to AGI's PR department indeed.

"If I agree to this then I'd expect you have something to offer that is...Worth my while in the future, yes? Pray tell, what is it you had in mind?"

Von Karma knew him through and through. A man who was privy to such was veraciously unique, despite Gant's apparent openness with the world. In truth he was as guarded as an armored tank inside a canon-proof vault. The workings of his mind were heavily classified and protected with deadly force. Under the guise of a magnanimous humanitarian he sought the aid of no one but himself. His former colleague had always understood that, and it was the mutual understanding that gained Gant's surprisingly limited respect.

I came to serve and protect, but whoever will serve me? It's my turn, it's only fair.

I've the wits to be judge, jury, and executioner. Things would prosper under me, the scum should have been grateful. In my world if I prosper, you prosper.

But that's the degenerative world we live in. They hate progress. So in turn they hate me.

Gant saw that old flare of Von Karma's light up between them. He knew how good it could be. He gave his cross-tie a little adjustment, as eyes of jealous malachite half-lidded under his scheming thoughts.

"I'll be your investigative strong-arm. Don't think I don't know what sort of morons they filled the local precinct. They even hired that backwater hick of a scum-bag. Knowing their ilk, they'll screw up an investigation just to watch you fall again."

There he extended his hand, thick retractiles curling to beckon him forth like the Devil making an offer that shant be refused.

"You can trust me, Manfred. After all...

They think I'm tame now."

The system was flawed, no doubt about that. Gant was living proof of that fact. As he himself had been corrupted by it. Gant arguably had once been a good detective. A good cop. But Von Karma himself could never ascribe to such a title. He was hated in every sense of the word by all manner of people who pretended to know him when in fact none of them did. And he didn't want them to.

His celebrity status had unfortunately come with..all kinds of conjecture. The rumours circulated endlessly through the prosecution office, and thus he was painted in part to color the imaginations of every fool that believed in such nonsense to begin with. "The man with the scary face", or so he was nicknamed by certain individuals. What merits they bore was a thing of much debate.

Even here in this place the air was thick with hearsay and gossipmongers trying to condemn him for the things Miles Edgeworth had said. His reputation did precede him, indeed.

"..Hm."

A minor sound is given as his features harden further and his lips crease into a vicious, if not wolfish smile. He could see where such a dastardly plan hatched between the two of them could be useful against his many enemies. Who would expect them to make ties, after all? Not to say that he was desperate for company or that allies were to be desired, but Gant had never been incompetent in all his days of knowing him.

"Fine. But only under the condition that you know your place. And you act with subtlety."

Sealing a deal with a demon was nothing he hadn't managed to do before, and thus he'd reach across to breach the space between them as his eyes glittered. Skin met leather with no hesitance, forming a formal agreement through the touch itself.

"Consider this a binding accord."

They could have sealed the deal in blood and the pact betwixt them would have been just as strong. But the blood could always flow later, Gant would gladly bide his time here. Endless time he had to scheme and frolic before his dissenters while they stood helpless to stop him.

A smile creased him with insatiably wicked delight as he squeezed his partner's palm.

"Needn't worry about that, Freddy... It'll just be like old times." A rustic purr left him as the screech of the train breaks shuddered the car.

"Ravenwood, Ravenwood Stop, all passengers for Ravenwood please depart."

The sensual robotic voice lifted Gant rather gallantly from his seat and there he took the liberty of pulling his old friend up with him.

"Last stop, I take this is yours, isn't it? I have a wave to catch but... what say you and I meet up after your obligations? Then we can better discuss the finer details."

Edited 2012-05-16 05:50 (UTC)

The gesture perhaps lingers a bit too long for his liking, but he'll endure, as he always had. The old prosecutor was no fool.

He is quite aware that he still has business that needs attending, and thus the intercom announcing his stop pulls him back to reality.

"Hn. As long as you know where we draw the line."

There's a line of tension down his back as he's pulled against his will, and he'll bat the hand away once he's finished. Manfred was not entirely fond of that sort of contact from Chief Gant, after all. He didn't need a crutch. Depending on another was a sign of weakness.

"Fine. Then don't be late. You'll know when I am finished. I'll send the proper time to that device of yours."

A last glance is given before Manfred turned and, with cane in tow, left the train off to carry out the task that was required of him. It was an interesting development, but time would tell whether or not Gant lived up to his word. Nothing further was needed.

Jake had managed to convince his superiors to let him on patrol early - thank god, the usual patrol officer for the morning had called in sick, and he managed to ask just at the right time. He'd taken the patrol car almost immediately and gone. They'd let him go, but not for the reason they thought - in reality, he was going to search the island for Gant and track him down. If it meant searching in every nook and cranny of the city that a rat such as Gant could burrow his way into, he was sure as hell going to do it.

After searching for several hours around the baseball diamond, he could only conclude that Gant had walked off on his own. Cursing his luck, he started driving again, this time ranging in wider circles. That bastard just had to be somewhere, he had to be. He kept thinking of all the possible places Gant could be, but even attempting to think like Gant was starting to make his blood boil. For now, staying in wide circles was probably going to be easiest, though it meant he couldn't search businesses or the like.

As luck would have it, Jake got a glimpse - just a glimpse. The person that had turned the corner just then appeared to be the man he was looking for walking along the street. Quickly he turned the corner, and drove closer. He slowed down after he confirmed his suspicion, his eyes looking over the grayed hair and the tanned skin of his neck, with that ridiculously orange suit.

It was possible to just run him over, right? There might be a few witnesses, but if he could just-

No. No. Killing a man just for the hell of it would make him more like the bastard he was glaring at right now. Dammit. Dammit.

It didn't take long for him to pull over to the side of the road and stop. He paused, took a deep breath. Took another for good measure. And then, he stopped the engine. He stepped out of the car, the jingle of his spurs barely noticeable to his own ears. All that concerned him was the person in front of him, who was still walking away. Jake quickly followed after him, slowing down as he got within loud speaking distance.

"You wouldn't by any chance be tryin' to start trouble, now would'ja, Gant?"

Just past that corner was the wide open boardwalk that lead out to the pristine sea. Gant had made his destination after chatting up with an old friend. His lungs filled in deeply with the crisp salty air, feeling the mist of the waves not far ahead of him ghosting at his cheeks.

Long before those jingling spurs confirmed his suspicions, Gant knew all too well he was being followed. The rose-colored lenses in front of his eyes weren't just for show, he ever so often upturned them to discreetly glance behind himself. There was that abhorrent smell as well. The scent of burnt rawhide, suede, and cheap whiskey. A filthy concoction that made his stomach churn.

Always when Gant was looking for a moment of peace at mind, that second-rate cowboy would shoehorn his way into his path. But time had passed. Things had changed. Their world and everything that they knew of it had changed.

He wasn't about to allow his noxious stench to ruin it.

As he heard that stern drawl he kept walking still, as if his words were just howls on the wind that played with his coat-ends. Expensive black loafers sunk into the wet sand, leaving a deep impression of his immense weight. Just because he was dead hardly meant he wasn't still a daunting presence. After a few more steps, he finally stopped a few yards away. He stared intently at the billowing gray skies and watched the waves roll in with thunderous crests.

The ocean's vast power and immaculacy was something he admired above all things. Its intensity inspired him like no other... and in a way he had instilled its mercilessness in himself. Like its roaring surf, he could erode away even at the mightiest of mountains. Like its vast depths, none would ever know what lied at the very heart of himself.

When he finally turned, his bright coat slid off his shoulders, revealing his black oxford as he slung the suit over his shoulder, where it flagged in the sea-mist like liquid flames. He stared at that undeserving cretin with a gaze that remained unreadable, but a smirk that marked all rebellion. Not an ounce of shame radiated off him.

"I'm just an old man rekindling his love for the sea. It seems the only one looking troubled... is you, boy."

Edited 2012-03-19 04:59 (UTC)

The sea was not exactly where Jake wanted to be - it was a little too cold for his liking. Still, he had the poncho, which broke some of the wind coming in from the ocean, a little more than a breeze but a little less than a torrent. Thankfully his trusty hat was staying on too. He did tilt it just a little, for safe measure.

The eyes that turned on him stared back at him with the energy of a thousand burning suns. But, thanks to two years of constantly managing his way in toward Gant, he'd gotten a bit used to it by now. He could hold out better than most against The Stare, and in fact didn't even seem to bat an eye as Gant turned to watch him. The cool exterior Gant was showing off was nowhere near enough to scare him, either. He'd been scared enough in the beginning, but hating this man for the better part of two years had given him a courage, a resolve that was not going to be easily broken. Especially not by the bastard that had tried to take him down so ruthlessly before.

But it made Jake's blood burn through his veins to see Gant acting so superior, so guiltless. Not that he seemed like he didn't know what he'd done, but that he so obviously didn't care. Neil's life was not something that was so trivial, so cheap that this man could be acting in such a way. He felt his fist clench tight underneath his poncho, his teeth gritting together in nothing but pure rage. He refused to let this man shake him so early on in the game, though, so in response Jake just rested both his hands on his hips, not a threatening gesture nor a submissive one, but a gesture that indicated he was relaxed but ready for anything.

"There ain't nothin' old man about you, Gant." Jake replied, his eyes scanning the man for any changes, any subtle body movement that might give away something. "Reckon you mighta had a good reason for wanderin' about the Port without so much as checkin' out yer new place at the Towers. But I warn ya, Gant, doin' this sorta thing at night's a surefire way to get yerself in a heap of trouble." Not that Jake would have minded Gant being horrendously eaten by the creatures that roamed the streets of Siren's Port every night, but, this was his way of extending an olive branch. As long as Gant played by the rules here, Jake wouldn't have to mercilessly hunt him down. Those were the words unspoken to Gant that Jake was more than eager to show with his eyes.

"And it's Detective Marshall to you, Mister Gant." Jake added this little retort and shifted his shoulders a little so that his proud detective's badge shone in the sun. He was back where he needed to be, and this time, he wasn't going to let Gant ruin it.

Damon Gant was a timeless man. Were it not for the graying and shocks of white in his hair, one could mistake his youthful demeanor for a man in his prime. This was the grande carriage on which he rode in on since the world first knew his name. Just as he was when he stepped into the police department, none knew what to make of him, for his mirthful and benevolent guise was so believable it was almost sin to doubt it.

Nothing would change. Not even in death would he allow it. Did you think I learned my lesson? Think again. Those cool viridian eyes took in the obvious pride that Jake took in his shiny new badge. To Gant, it was nothing but a piece of tin. About as worthless as the toy-like sheriff's star Jake would brandish about like he was the star-role of an Old West reenactment.

An act. A pitiful romanticized act. He saw the boy idolized the lawless scum of the old west as if they were something to be praised. To him... he looked like nothing more than a child playing dress-up.

"A detective are you now, Jakey? I hope you can do me the favor of not wasting this second chance. I'm sure you've earned it." His smile was pleasant as always, but it did not reach those eyes that continued to look through him as if he were but a translucent will-o-wisp.

His intense gaze softened then, as if he were tired and worn, but his body remain resolute, standing like an unmovable pillar against the twisting wind as the waves rumbled forebodingly in the short distance.

"But you needn't worry about little ol' me. I had my bases covered, like always." He had accepted the offer the Towers gave him, but he really had no mind to stay. Not after he heard about the new comer fund which he readily signed the paperwork for.

The message Gant was sending him was loud and clear - he was still the same old Gant he had always been. And that meant Jake still held the same old grudge he always had. Sure, Jake had a forgiving spirit most of the time... but not for Damon Gant. Like the men of the Wild West, he was still seeking revenge, and nothing was going to sate that. Not while Gant was still walking freely around this Port, the town he'd protected for about nine months.

He almost let out a snarl when he heard that condescending name - Jakey. It was Jake, god dammit. He was quick on the draw to correct Gant's mistake. "Detective Marshall is my official title, Gant, and I'd like you to stick to that." He wasn't going to allow Gant to tarnish his badge like that, and reduce his victory to nothing. Especially not if he knew just what Gant thought of his achievement in general. Still, he couldn't help a subtle jab at the man who'd ruined his life in so many ways. "Did it with my own blood, sweat, 'n tears. Y'know, the same way when I first became a detective."

Jake continued to watch over Gant, not sure he liked the sudden change in mood after that. He wasn't pleased with Gant's excuses for small talk, either - but then again, what about this man did please him? Nothing.

"Y'ain't always had yer bases covered. There've been times you screwed up, just like every human bein' on this planet." It was more of a musing thought, that a man so calculating could screw up on something so basic. "You know everything there is to know 'bout this island, then. I'm surprised you'd make yer way here if you knew this already. Darkness ain't nothin' to sneeze at."

The persistent little bugger was right on one account. For as calculating and clever as he was, Gant had slipped up in the split-second he had to contrive and devise his plot to entrap the prosecution office in his grasp. Though he was the Crime Computer, Human Error was his fatal Achilles. Surprisingly though, the exposure of his defeat did not faze him. It was a wound that had long healed before the execution needle put him down for the big sleep.

He had laughed when he was caught, knowing well that he hadn't made a very good criminal. He was laughing now that fate would grant him another chance.

He smiled again, one far more genuine than the last, "They say the charm comes the third time around, you know better than to take me for a fool."

What that meant was ominous at best. This city offered him a plethora of options to rise to the top. The top of what, was the question at hand. He turned his back again to redirect it at the sea. The buzzing from the Core's draw on him was almost painful, but the sight he beheld was worth it. Death had been almost pleasant. Nothing could shake him.

Nothing would shake him.

"I came here with the warnings fresh in my mind, Officer." he spoke out above the soughing of the waves with a blithe chuckle.

Edited 2012-03-22 05:31 (UTC)

"I know way better than to take you for a fool, but I know even more than that, it's best just not to give you that third chance, if I can help it." If Gant was going to threaten him, he was more than happy to return the favor. But, logic did get the best of him, and he was quick to add, "But I ain't gonna have to arrest you. Only way I'd do that is if you got yerself caught up in some sorta murder. You wouldn't be doin' nothin' like that here, wouldja?"

Jake had gotten used to the ache in his chest around the beach - that he'd been acclimated to within the first couple of months or so. He just wasn't sure if it was the Pull itself or the adrenaline pumping through his veins that was making his heart beat so fast. He was pretty sure it was a mix of both, though with the way he felt so tense around the man in front of him, it was possible it was purely his reaction to being around him, of all people.

And he had caught that little dismissal Gant had given him, and the way he so flippantly ignored his true, proper title, instead referring to him by the title he'd had for the past two years in their world. Officer. Gant had been the one who'd demoted him to Officer in the first place. Officer Marshall, his ass! Jake couldn't help but feel his jaw lock up with anger. After giving him a few more seconds to feel smug about himself, Jake replied rather curtly, "Don't reckon y'heard me the last time. It's Detective Marshall, Mister Gant. I'd like ya t'use my proper title, if it ain't too hard on yer memory to remind yerself."

"You can't take what you haven't the authority give." This chance was something he was going to put a strangle-hold on. No one would rip it from him lest they wanted to end up like poor Neily.

"Neither am I about to throw away what I've been granted with some nonentity's blood on my hands." A curl of his lip exposed his sharp eye-tooth, as if he had just walked out of the gates of Hell and hadn't yet shed his horns. The gall that filthy upstart had to think he had to wallow in blood just to get his way.

How Jake was so full-of-himself about that flimsy title of his was almost pathetic enough to make him feel sorry for him. Poor fellow. No lot in life but to strive for a petty banner for him to flag about. Were Gant to roll his eyes they'd have fallen out of his head from the paltriness of it all.

"So quick to unctuously--" He paused, waiting for the wooden cogs to set on fire in Jake's skull, "...That's greasily for you laic folk--to boast about the things you've done with your measly sweat and tears. I hope the little multiple-choice proficiency test you took to reclaim that moniker didn't give you a paper-cut." He derided with a tittering little snicker. He was surprised the hick still knew how to work a pencil, let alone how to fill in the blanks.

"Guess that's the only difference between upstanding folk and cold-blooded killers. Upstanding folk know the weight of a human life. Murderers and the like don't care. It's just another nonentity t'them." Jake had quite specifically chosen that word over all the others, with his nonchalant tone and expression. Heavy implication was the only way he seemed to be able to get under Gant's skin, if at all. One thing Gant was good at was a poker face. Jake was just going to have to tie him at his own game.

"Sweat and tears means a lot more to some folk than it does to others. That don't mean you should devalue it so quick by callin' it measly. You had to take the test at one point. Ain't sure you remember, it was a long time ago since you were an honest man, but they put a lot more into it than a multiple choice an' a pat on the back." He kept his gaze focused, unwavering, his face relaxed but somehow still deadly serious. "This place is dangerous, they gotta know you can defend yerself and other folks 'round here."

His gaze narrowed just a bit as he continued. "I just want you to know 'zactly what it is you're gettin' into, old timer. This ain't L.A., much as you might want it to be."

Jake's diatribes went in one ear and flew out the other. All that cloying nobility and self-righteous horse-shit had him about bored to tears at this point. Yet he stared at him with that piercing gaze that could turn armor to shreds and leave the soul bare and naked to his judgement.

This charlatan would know his place again soon enough.

Let him think he has the upper hand, it would be of no consequence to Gant. He feigned listening to his lecturing and smiled a rather honest smile.

"Well.. You'll just have to keep tabs on me to see, wont you Detective?" The saccharine purr of that title held a promise that whatever it was that he found, it would not come in Jake's favor. But make no mistake, he would be making doubly sure to keep his eyes on him as well. Can't fool a man like him twice.

Gant should have never left that scoundrel alone in that security office.

As the storm began its descent upon the inlands, the winds kicked up with a terrible fury and from the shoreline the pelting of rain fell in thick misting drapes towards them.

Their standoff would have to come to a close here, and just in time too. For they were momentarily shrouded in the blinding highbeams of a roaring black beast. A 1970 Mercedes Grand 600 pulled up, its horn blaring to alert whatever plebeians about that they were not welcome before its grandeur. A capped chauffeur stepped out from the driver's seat and came about to the side facing the cop and gent, and bowed as he opened the back passenger door.

"Mr. Gant." In the pitch dark of the limousine one could see a pair of crossed legs and a cane tapping on the floor rather impatiently.

The ex-Chief grinned, ever so pleased with the timing, "And now's my time to be off and start anew." He drifted past Jake without another glance as he stepped into the purring vehicle, but paused halfway digging underneath the seat to toss something large Jake's way.

"A storm's coming your way, boy, try not to let it rain on your parade. Ta-ta!" He dismissed himself merrily before the car rolled off to depart.

The item in question... was a large blue umbrella.

Edited 2012-05-16 06:46 (UTC)

(ooc: I am so sorry. I couldn't resist. XD)

When Phibrizzo walked out of the Cinnagrad Cemetery, he wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. Or at least, out of the ordinary by the standards of the highly diverse and downright odd city of Siren's Port. It was only when he heard the man's words and laid sight on that eye gaugingly bright orange suit that Phibrizzo's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't help but be disturbed that anyone shared similar tastes in fashion with his traitor brother Gaav. But it was the optimism that ultimately made the 'boy' cringe openly.

There was no doubt amongst the eyes that turned at the sight of him that he was an odd character indeed. This was a man who was scott-free and grooving like a cool cat in the rain to the beat of his own song, his umbrella twirling about without a care in the world as he gallantly sauntered over the cracks in the sidewalk like he was cock-o-the-walk.

He was just off of death-row after all, and any that had the foresight that he was a dead-man now alive could see that he was celebrating every damn breath he took. Bright green eyes took notice of the boy's gawking, to which he grinned ear-to-ear. He ever so loved that look of horror stamped on peoples' faces. It was as if they'd never seen true gaiety in their entire miserable lives.

"Hohohoho! I hear if you stare like that too long you face'll get stuck that way, son."

Edited 2012-03-19 01:03 (UTC)

The sheer amount of vile cheer and appreciation for being alive was enough to make Phibrizzo feel nauseous. If it wasn't for the fact that he was hiding the majority of his abilities, he might have teleported away right there and then. Assuming the overwhelming amount of life affirming joy didn't prove distracting enough to impede his escape, of course.

He winced. Sometimes, his innocent persona was a curse. Today was one of those days.

"That's just a story mothers tell their kids to stop them from making faces," replied Phibrizzo with a wince. He did not want this happy man with the bright orange coat that reminded him of his 'big brother' Gaav coming any closer. He wanted the man to walk in the opposite direction. Preferably frightened away by a ghost or anything that would get rid of that revolting optimism. The boy was looking downright ill.

Iroh found the animals here quite strange. They seemed to be just one type of animal, instead of a mix. There were no Mooselions, just lions, and moose (meese?). He had decided to become more acclimatized to the creatures bit by bit. There were not exactly startling, in comparison to some of what the port had to offer, but different. Though he understood the value and use of the zoo, he preferred animals to be seen in their natural habitat, as opposed to locked away. Some of their natural beauty and ferocity were lost when they became caged.

He had made sure to arrive there early, knowing that most creatures were active most during the early morning, or the evening. Having completed a pleasant walk through the zoo, he glanced to see a very vibrant older gentleman strolling along as happy as could be.

"My, you certainly are in good spirits, today." he commented as the man approached him.

"Not even the rain can wash away my joy. It's a good day to be alive, my friend! Good day indeed!" Gant was almost endeared that anyone else could appreciate another's damn jubilation. So far all he had gotten were sneers and queer-eyes leering. What a stuffy joint this city was!

But not this old fellow. Gant stopped before him with a rather grateful, if not relieved look upon his most magnanimous self, "Why you're the first person to notice without spite, I was starting to think this was the isle of doom and gloom. I've got to know your name."

For future reference of course. Gant never forgot a name once he heard it. Nor a face for that matter. Part of his job, after all.. former job, that was. A Chief detective and later Chief of Police all together, he had a knack for wanting to profile every living person he came upon. Be they friend of foe, Gant certainly wasn't shy by any means.

((ooc: I'm extremely sorry for this unacceptably LATE reply, I totally flounced on my drive coming into this. Baw new character syndrome D: ))

Well that was certainly a nice way to think of things. Even the rain couldn't wash away his joy? A good way to think of things, he thought so anyway.

"Oh it certainly can be a depressing place at times, however it is better to focus on the positive. Though of course acknowledging the negative side of things is important too, but should not be consumed, life is worth living wherever you are."

Iroh pauses for a moment, and does a small polite bow.

"My name is Iroh, might I have the honour of your name?"

Oh my! It had been years since he was treated with that kind of home-grown courtesy. This man was cultured, Gant could tell right off the bat. He once tried to get his men to bow to him, but the fad never took, something about them whining that it felt degrading and that they'd cry to HR about it (Not that Human Resources could ever touch him ♥).

Gant fisted his arms behind himself and bowed back, "Damon Gant's the name! Just washed in with the morning tied. But I must say I know already I like the cut of your jib, you wouldn't happen to be a local, would you?"

Every name and profession he gathered mattered to him. This was reconnaissance on a grand scale. Every person was to be accounted for, for any person could equal his step up the social ladder.

Iroh stroked his beard with a smile. He was fairly certain jib meant his beard, and he was rather fond of that. It was something he had cultivated over many years. He was wearing it longer then when he was younger, but he supposed that was usual.

"A pleasure, Damon Gant. I am likewise a newcomer, but I have been here for about three quarters of a year. I am currently managing a business here myself, though I shall soon be starting my own, a tea shop named the Jasmine Dragon." he explained happily with a bit of a twinkle in his eye at the mention of his own shop.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tut-tut, it looks like rain!

Stop 15, Turner - Aquarium

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Location is up to you?

The beach boardwalk ;)

How about under it next time? ;)

You got it baby <3

Oh baby baby <3

Re: Oh baby baby <3

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Near Cinnagrad Cemetery

Re: Near Cinnagrad Cemetery

Re: Near Cinnagrad Cemetery

Outside the zoo

I really hope you don't mind if I backtag this, I REALLY WANTED TO REPLY TO YOU

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kasjhfkjads I am trying not to make this a habit D:

You are forgiven. :P