Trigger Happy
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December 20th, 2009
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| If people thought torture was a quick process then there were quite sorely mistaken - it was a matter of patience and dedicating time and effort to picking a person apart so thoroughly that they didn’t know where they began and ended, sometimes quite literally. It was a messy business, it always was, ending the way it started. More often than not the person being tortured didn’t survive, except in rare occasions, like Joseph when he’d been grabbed a few years back and had a world of hurt carved into him. He hadn’t broken nor had he allowed them to kill him. Shame that his latest torture victim hadn’t had the same constitution, but then Joseph wouldn’t have what he needed to know and that would have been quite unforgivable. He had names, places, times and arrangements - everything he needed to make for a very uncomfortable future for the local criminal masterminds that ‘ran’ the city. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. After all that’s what the old wives say and Joseph intended on putting it to the test. ( Passing A Tip ) | ||||||||||
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workingDecember 13th, 2009
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| There were many ways of coercing information from a person - you could bribe them, blackmail them, threaten their security, but there was no better way of extracting information from a person than by hurting loved ones or hurting them directly. Joseph preferred the latter to the former, knowing he’d rather keep his loved ones out of the line of fire and there were some depths he would not stoop to. Currently he was stood back, distanced, separated from the events playing out before his eyes. He’d intervene, he always did, he was too good at this part not to get involved. It was a strength, one that kept him awake at night, not always though. Smoke was exhaled as Joseph turned and extinguished the last remnants of life in the cigarette he’d been nursing, fingers flicking lingering traces of ash away and into the dark of a nearby shadow. ( Answers ) | ||||||||||
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December 11th, 2009
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| If there was one thing Joseph was good at it, it was knowing when and how to have a good time, especially when he’d spent the last couple nights working his ass to the bone trying to find out as much information about the people who “ran” the city. Currently he was enjoying a cigarette and a game of pool that was rapidly turning in his favour, to the dismay of his once enthusiastic now turned dejected opponent. Joseph had offered him an out about three balls ago, but the guy’s confidence had been falsely built up by that point so he was under the mistaken impression that he could win this. Shame that he couldn’t. Joseph swept his hair back and prowled the table, tipping his head to watch the angle that the man was aiming the stick, tutting under his breath slightly as he just knew it wasn’t going to do anything except knock the ball too far off target. Not that Joseph was about to share that piece of information. ( Not Very Nice ) | ||||||||||
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flirtyNovember 30th, 2009
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| Part of taking over new territory was spreading fear and sowing seeds of mistrust, Joseph knew this better than anyone else. He’d already began his campaign of fear by first attacking small branches before escalating into full out mayhem by incendiary devices being planted and blown. The press were having a field day, the local authorities not so much. Nothing could be traced, everything was easy to make and planned to the last meticulous detail so there was no paper trail. Now was the time to rip the rivals apart from the inside out. ( Legwork ) | ||||||||||
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November 26th, 2009
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| The room was dark, pitched into shadow, until a switch was flipped and it was bathed in bright artificial light, revealing the man shedding layers in his travels towards the bathroom. It wasn’t long until he was left in nothing more than a pair of jeans that had been a pair of his best until this particular night. Joseph pulled at the skin around his bicep and his top lip curled as he regarded a long cut, which thankfully had missed his tattoo. There had been a couple of lucky swings, resulting in some superficial injuries that didn’t stop at the one around his bicep; they decorated bone of collar and teased the curve of one hip. Blowing out a breath, Joseph picked up a nearby clear bag and sorted through it, pulling out antiseptic wipes and steri-strips, methodically laying them out on the nearby surface. He began by first of all cleaning the cuts with water, simply biting back on the twinges of pain that arose as a result, ignoring the burning sensation that settled into the ragged corners of every cut. He was pretty sure his mouth was going to be bruised from one flyaway punch that had slipped through his defences, not to mention his earlier altercation with a table. Joseph sat back onto the edge of the bath, ripped denim stretching thinly across one knee and began the clean and repair process. It was all so routine that he could do it blindfolded, he really cloud. With the cuts cleaned and brought together, Joseph disposed of the medical supplies and brushed his thumb over a small cut that lingered beneath his left eye. ( In Room Entertainment ) | ||||||||||
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November 25th, 2009
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| Tonight was about one thing and one thing only: sending a message, a strong powerful message that would echo in the ears of the superiors and cause second thoughts. The approach was far from delicate, it was brutality embodied from the first person taken to the ground to the way in which the imposing force laid claim to the space. Blood soaked through skin, shouts of pain rang in ears long closed to the pleas for mercy and cold detachment served to make every action more calculated than the last. It was only after the bar fell silent that the assault ceased, brought to a lingering end that tugged at the fragile strings tying allegiances to the men that gave the injured parties their marching orders. One of the few standing was Joseph, eyes surveying the destruction that had been reaped by his and two others hands. It was ugly, but sometimes ugly was the only way to get things done - to get a clear message across. Two crimson coloured fingers held a half burned cigarette and knocked ash onto the ground, grey flecks disintegrating into the muddled colours; it would be hell to clean. With cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth Joseph grabbed a hold of a nearby stool and dragged it over to where the previously smart mouthed man laid, Joseph had picked him out as the leader the moment he’d gone off on one. ( Lucky One ) | ||||||||||
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November 23rd, 2009
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| For the last hour a glass of whiskey with half melted ice had stood neglected, forgotten beneath a haze of smoke and hidden undrer a brim of a hat that all but concealed the wearer’s face. It was deliberate, like everything else Joseph did. In his wanderings he’d found a local hotspot for criminals, drug dealers and reprobates - a safe haven in which to drink and be merry. Some more than others. Just like the big guy near the jukebox; he’d drank too much and as a result spent most of his time hassling the young waitress on duty. For the most part it was innocent enough, but there were a few insinuations and tones that didn’t sit very well with Joseph. If there was one thing he hated more than rival gangs it was a man disrespecting a woman. ( Friendly Warning ) | ||||||||||
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November 19th, 2009
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| Smoke hung in the air like an ever present dark cloud, curling around the tapered tips of the fingers that clutched the cigarette that slowly burned away as the man holding it turned his attention to the scattered papers spread across the table in front of him. There were also photographs of meetings, entourages and venues followed by information on habits and everything that Joseph thought was important was noted on a nearby pad. He took a lingering drag from the cigarette and then stubbed out what was left of it, sinking back into the chair as he regarded a photograph closely. Joseph hadn't slept since his arrival in Florida and he'd been living off whiskey, cigarettes and adrenaline alone. He smoothed a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck, tossing the photograph onto the table as he let his attention drift to the hotel room for the first time since he'd set foot into it. ( Headed Out ) | ||||||||||
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November 15th, 2009
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| Since he'd been escorted into the white room Joseph had taken his time in learning both mannerisms and expressions of his would be captors coming to the conclusion that the bigger man was in the middle of a nasty divorce or had recently divorced judging by the white band around his left ring finger and the smaller one was having some serious comb over issues. He tapped his fingers against the table and exhaled a breath, reclining back into the uncomfortable metal seat before shifting so the edge of his belt knocked into it causing a resounding clunk in the quiet room. His eyes cut to the bigger man then found their way to the smaller man again, wondering just when their bosses would be in here firing question after question at him. Joseph wet his lower lip and tipped his head, adjusting the way a leather cuff sat around his left wrist. "You any idea how long this is going to be? I have sightseeing to do." He smirked at the responding answers and scowling expressions, shrugging his shoulders a moment later. "Had a feeling you might say that." The index finger of his right hand scratched at a peeling piece of skin on the thumb of that hand before the same hand slipped into a pocket to pull a pack of cigarettes free. If he was going to be stuck in this room then he was sure as hell going to have a smoke, he'd already gone hours without. Joseph pulled a cigarette free and tossed the pack on the table before he slid the filter end in-between his lips, tipping his head into the flame of his lighter. ( We're Watching You ) [NPC Agent Kottler & other NPCs were written by Willow] | ||||||||||
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| The flight had been long and had tried Joseph's somewhat shortened patience given the lack of nicotine in his veins forced upon him by the rest of society. God, he hated public opinion. He breathed out sharply through a set of gritted teeth as the child behind him kicked his seat for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour alone. All it took was one more kick for Joseph to turn sharply, levelling the overweight brat of a child with a dark glare. "Try it again," he muttered, voice low pitched and intimidating. "I dare you." The child briefly glanced at his feet before regarding Joseph warily until it would seem even this child had some sort of survival instinct as instead of lifting up his leg he dropped back into his seat and contented himself with listening to some godawful music instead. Joseph wasn't entirely sure what was worse. The American-Italian instead chose not to ponder on this and simply resign himself to his fate given that the plane would be landing soon and then he'd be rid of that... thing sat behind him. It wasn't that Joseph hated kids - far from it - he just hated spoilt ones that felt that the world owed them something. He raked his decorated fingers through his hair and smoothed the flat expanse of his palm over the back of his neck, willing the tension away. Nerves couldn't begin to explain what Joseph was feeling. The pressure to succeed was immense and he knew he couldn't let Don Moretti down; if he did, he might as well put both feet into a bucket, fill it with wet cement himself and jump right into the nearest body of water, save the Don the trouble of getting the goons to do it for him. ( Same Old Routine ) | ||||||||||
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annoyedOctober 30th, 2009
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artisticJuly 22nd, 2009
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| ( Gift ) | ||||||||||
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contentJuly 7th, 2009
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| Nervous didn't even begin to describe the way in which Joseph felt as he and Rhiannon walked along the sidewalk, just like they did every other time, but he was a bundle of nerves. Hell, even Rhiannon had noticed something was wrong, he was being that obvious about it. He supposed he should apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words, given what he intended on doing as soon as they reached the end of this particular street. How many times did a guy ask the woman he loved to marry him? "Hey," he said after a few moments of silence. "Can we swing in here quickly?" Joseph caught Rhiannon by the waist and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. "My aunt's birthday's coming up soon, I wanna take a look at something for her." ( Perfect Rouse ) ( Happiest Man Alive ) | ||||||||||
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April 24th, 2009
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| ( Voicemail for Rhiannon ) Joseph tossed his phone into the passenger side of his car and reached over his back to touch a couple sore places from where his back had hit the wall, none of the cuts or bruises were that serious, but they'd hurt for a couple days. The whole being thrown into a wall with all the force of a hurricance was one thing a man like Joseph couldn't walk away from unscatched. He rolled his neck and took a quick drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke linger before sliding in behind the wheel of the car, hand stilling as it reached for the keys to turn the ignition. His attention had been caught by the delightful display of fire now being played across his rear view mirror. Good. Joseph reversed the car and turned the wheel in his hand, accelerating away quickly. That supplier wasn't going to be selling any red-flagged items to anybody anytime soon. | ||||||||||
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| One call later and Joseph was stood in the middle of what could only be described as the loss of a man's soul, he had a feeling that he might find it bottled in some of the interesting specimens littered amongst the shelves. It was truly amazing how deep a person could go in search of wealth, power and recognition. "So," Joseph began as he cast a look over his shoulder at the man stood behind the counter, looking every bit the stereotypical weird alternative that had a flair for locating magical supplies. "I understand you sold a few red-flag ingredients to somebody recently? Maybe quite a lot over the last couple of months?" The man simply narrowed his eyes and murmured a few choice words, catching Joseph's shoulder with what felt like the force of a hurricane. Joseph's feet were picked up from under him, meaning he was literally thrown across the shop until he hit the wall, crumpling only briefly until finding his feet again. "Stupid fucking bastard," Joseph muttered as his hand slid inside his jacket and pulled out his Beretta, sliding safety off and taking the counter with one jump as the magic supplier had obviously fled out of the back. The sounds of thick soles echoing off hard concrete could be heard in the very small space that made up the alleyways behind the shop. Joseph wasn't that far behind, he could just tell. It was only when he had a clear run and a clear sight of the supplier that he came to a hurtling stop, sliding his fingers into his jacket until they snagged on the silencer. There was no point making a lot of noise, he didn't want to draw attention to himself. Joseph blew out a slow breath and screwed the silencer into place, waiting to hear the final click before lifting the gun and taking aim. There was great distance, but Joseph wasn't worrying about it, all he needed to do was pull that trigger and the man would go down and not be able to go anywhere very quickly. One eye shut and Joseph found his mark, inhaling a breath. He squeezed the trigger a second later, listening with some grim satisfaction as the man cried out in pain, stumbled and then landed in the middle of a nearby pile of rubbish. Joseph holstered the gun and closed the distance, crouching alongside the man attempting escape. "Anybody ever tell you that you shouldn't run unless you've got a really good escape plan?" He shoved a nearby wasted piece of material into the guy's mouth and pressed his fingers into the wound fully, ignoring the way the man cried out. Joseph put his other hand in the man's hair and tightened to the point where his knuckles turned white and the man's eyes began to tear. "Now," Joseph began, his voice low, quiet and threatening. "You're going to tell me everything I need to know and you're going to do it quickly." He pressed his fingers back into that wound again, meeting the man's watery gaze. "Do we understand one another?" All the man could do was nod and Joseph just smiled. "Good boy." | ||||||||||
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April 21st, 2009
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| Adrian was a surplus of information, babbling quicker than his mouth could keep up with him. Luckily Joseph could speak fluent babble. Most of it was useless information, things he already knew or had already worked out for himself. The key points came out later, towards the narrowing end of the stream: "He asked for some really weird stuff, stuff I don't sell. I sell a lot of stuff, but I don't sell the stuff he wanted." Joseph tilted his head. "What sort of stuff did he want?" Adrian went silent, for the first time, and just looked visibly nervous. "Spit it out," Joseph instructed. "I'm not paying you to play dumb." Adrian shuffled out from behind the counter and moved over to the door, turning the sign around to 'CLOSED' and locking it with several bolts and chains. He peered out of a slit in his blinds before he turned to look at Joseph. "I'm the man people come to when they want stuff. Y'know stuff they can't get anywhere else." Joseph merely lifted an eyebrow. "But, this guy? He wanted fucked up things like... human hearts, baby blood, fingers, fetuses. Really weird shit. Stuff I have nothing to do with, you understand?" Joseph crossed the distance and closed his hand around Adrian's shirt collar, slamming the man up against the nearby wall. "But you know somebody does though, right?" Adrian gave an audible swallow and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I do. I gave him the guy's number, just to get rid of him. He was weird, made my skin crawl, bad mojo." "And you never asked him what he was going to be using those ingredients for?" Joseph asked, voice deep with anger. Adrian attempted to push Joseph off, but when that didn't work he just sort of stood there. "I don't ask everybody who comes in here what they'll be using the stuff for. They demand, I deliver, it's that simple." Joseph shook his head. "You're a fucking idiot." He released his vice-like grip on the other man and stepped back. "I need that number." | ||||||||||
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April 20th, 2009
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| One of Joseph's many talents was finding out things that a lot of people would rather be kept hidden. It had been a strength well used within his Mafia connections - he was the man sent in when nothing else could be wheedled from a reluctant mouth or when somebody had dug in every closet and hadn't come up with any skeletons. Joseph rarely failed. Currently he was in one of Chicago's seediest neighbourhoods, moving from place to place like a shadow, using the green bills of persuasion if somebody was reluctant to say too much or elaborate, and with his earlier quarries he'd used a very fine balance of torture, relief and eventual release with a promise that nothing would be said if they valued their lives. Nobody sung better than a man with a gun held to his head or other places unmentionable. Currently he had the attention of a nervous looking woman who had flinched when Joseph had mentioned a few details, he'd clocked her in a crowd of about ten, sitting a couple stools away from him in a bar. "He's... I mean, this guy, he's weird. He's like 80 and he's always got that fucking coat with him that smells like something unnatural died to make it. He's really creepy, like... old crazy man lives on his own too long kinda crazy." The woman dropped her eyes. "He never used to be around, just turned up outta nowhere with that station wagon of his." "How long has been around?" Joseph asked, glancing over his shoulder as the sounds of a passing vehicle caught his attention. "Couple of months," she said with a shrug. "You oughta talk to Adrian." Joseph exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "And where can I find Adrian?" "3 blocks over, he runs a small convenience store, but he knows stuff." Joseph nodded his head, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to produce his wallet. He counted out a couple substantial bills and handed them over. "Get outta town for a while, don't look back." The money was snatched out of his hand and the woman scurried away, doing exactly what Joseph said. | ||||||||||
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April 6th, 2009
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| Jessica shifted on the stool, thanking the bartender for the drink she had been given as she waited for Joseph. She was ten minutes early for their meeting; she had spoken to him on the phone the day before to arrange this meeting. On the bartop next to her was a folder containing some information on the particular items she wanted him to procure for her. She tapped her fingers on the folder and stirred the ice around her coke with the straw, held between two long fingers. She chewed her lower lip and leaned forward to take a couple of long drinks before she glanced around. Her hair was loose and her jeans were a little baggier than usual, after her actions of the past couple of weeks, she felt she should probably spend some time dressed rather more modestly, but she had to admit that dressing the way that she had and the way that people had looked at her had felt good. Not to mention that night she had spent with Tseng. She chewed the inside of her lower lip and smiled to herself with the memory, though she was a little nervous about going to see him again. What if he had changed his mind? ( Ambience ) ( Has That Effect ) | ||||||||||
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March 24th, 2009
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| ( Voicemail for Rhiannon ) | ||||||||||
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March 9th, 2009
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| It was done, finally done. Joseph settled at the bar of his new property, pouring himself a glass of pure whiskey that wasn't diluted by ice or anything else. He breathed out slowly, picked up his glass and swallowed it back in one smooth movement. It burned. Easy enough to ignore and he'd been drinking long enough to handle it. Joseph's tongue flickered over his lower lip and caught on the edge of it, tapered tips of his fingers catching on the bottle to pour himself another glass. "Here's to this going somewhere," he murmured softly, voice thick and heavy with a whiskey gravelled tone. He downed another shot and lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke and taking a slow considering look around himself. It looked good, really good. Joseph rose to his feet and jeans slipped low enough to expose the curve of his hipbones that were barely hidden by the tattered edges of his black t-shirt. Thick soles of boots walked the distance and ringed fingers clasped at the sides of a pool table before another couple step backwards and Joseph had everything gathered for a game. His hair was loose, curling around the sharp angles of his face and stubble was visible along his jawline, a line that caught the light as he took the first shot and immediately sunk three balls in one go. "Definitely a good sign," Joseph said with a slow teeth exposing smile that oozed confidence. | ||||||||||
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accomplished
Trigger Happy
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