When the shooting began, Dashenka duck into the corner and made herself as small as possible.

When does the shooting stop... make it stop...

After she heard Eric scream and look at her and Jurlad, and after she looked at the dead officers she started crying out of control.

"Why do you kill all this innocent people?" she cried in Russian. "They only do their work."

James still held his knife in his hand. "Yo, you right. We gotta get outta this shit," he said as he walked towards Spyder and Jurlad. "What we do next?"
James looked at the crying girl as she spoke. "What did she say, Jurlad?" he asked with compassion on the poor girl. But as he asked, he heard footsteps. "Motherfuck!!" he said softly yet with anger. "I got batteries n a lighter. Can I blow those bitches up?" James asked nobody in particularly, but expected an answer from anybody.

Name: Joseph "Joe" De Groot
Age:30
Gender:Male
Rank: None yet
Job: None yet
Items/Weapons: If it hurts, It works
Physical Description: Average. Stubbles on face. Black hair. Not too long not too short. Unstyled. 6 feet tall. 170 pounds. Tan skin/Mixed raced. Joe has a healthy drinking habit and occasionally smokes cigars.
Bio: Born in Bellevue Washington to a Filipino mother and a father of Dutch decent in the summer 1977. Joe grew up as an only child to his parents in a small town called Maple Valley. Joe's father was a trucker and hardly ever saw him. His mother was a receptionist. Joe's Future was set with college money his parents have been saving up for him since he was born. After his graduation, he let his parents down and join the United States Marine Corps, His dream since 5th grade, in 1996. After the 2001 attacks. He was deployed to Afgahnistan as a Force Recon Marine. 2003 He was Sent to Iraq and in 2004 was injured in Operation Phantom Fury and was sent home with a purple heart. Joe was honorably discharged due to Injurys sustained in combat. Joe recovered from his wounds later. Marine life didn't pay much as an enlisted man. Without telling any of his family, he flew to Darfur and began his life as a Hired Gun working for several factions. Loosing track of time over 3 years he ends up in Moscow looking for work for the war with the Chechens.


"What the hell was that?" Joe thought to himself in the Subway Lavatory. He peeks around the corner. "Ok. They speak english. One is crying. Shell casings all over the place. They seem friendly." Joe Quickly takes deep breathes hoping for the best and steers around the corner out of the men's room with his hands up to show he was unarmed. "Hello there!" and in his best effort for a russian accent "Privyet!" "Can I be of Service?"

Sorry everyone!!!!!! You'll beleive what happened!!!!! As soon as a find time to read over everything I missed I'll post again!!!! Welcome Spektre....Can you please move your profile to the OOC Thread:


http://www.the-kurtains-club-the-rvg-ooc-t3557.html


Thats all folks!!!

Name: Aleksandr Filat
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Rank: Enforcer
Job: Hit-man, people's task worker. His job does not only apply to the line of work involving murder.
Items/Weapons: 9 millimeter, screwdriver, and really anything else he can find and use.
Physical Description: Brunette. Buzzed head. Stubbly face, soft brown eyes. He is around six foot and is quite muscular. He wears a brown coat with sheep fur lined around the collar. The rest of his apparel is an array of dark colors and a pair of black leather boots.
Bio: Being abandoned in Russia as a child he performed many violent acts. Killing people for money, house break-ins. Breaking into a house during the night and slaughtering a a family of around four. After several years he managed to sneak onto a boat around the age of six-teen and ended up in America. After a couple more months of stealing and killing the Red Velvet's managed to track him and give him a 'family' that could take care of him.

Cries and pleads echoed out through the dirty city subway bathroom. In the corner of the shit colored lavatory was a fairly heavy man, he was crying like a baby. A goddamn, fucking baby.

"Please man, I got kids!" The pig continued to squeal as he squirmed deeper and deeper in the corner of the room. His clothes were ripped and stained in a deep crimson shade, his body damp in his own urine and blood. Sadly for the squirming individual the protagonist continued to grow closer without saying a word. The only noise made from was the clicking of his boots on the wet floor.

"C'mon man!" The male murmured from his split, bleeding lips. "Please!" But again, nothing from the other. No remorse. He was on a 'job'. Aleksandr took a 9 millimeter from his coat inside and pointed the weapon in the direction of the bloody man. Squeezing the trigger. The bullet collided with the front of the male's forehead and blew straight out the back of his head, spraying a thick crimson liquid all over the walls. His body fell limp and his head collided with the hard floor, spilling any of the loose scull or matter inside all over the place.

Aleksandr would slip the weapon back into the insides of his brown coat. Slipping out of the bathroom and into the sulky subway station, straight to the stairs and out into the cold city. Looking left and right a couple of times before beginning his walk down the dark sidewalk.

Some 'job'.

[Is anyone on?]

[No CLue]