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Proxy

"I am here, I am everywhere, and I have come to stay."

0 · 564 views · located in Crystallum

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Mr. Crow

So begins...

Proxy's Story

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Red, luminescent orbs hovered in the blackness of night. Eyes behind the goggles peered to catch a narrow view of the city lights shining down the alley. Countless columns of sky-scrapers were illuminated by the late night lights of office workers; a cluster of man-made stars. Yawning would approach all the par-takers of over-time, and CEOs would be leaving their offices, only to take their home work with them. The police would be pre-occupied with whatever scum of the earth unlucky enough to waddle in their sights; sirens were already beginning to echo throughout the city.

The clicks of sharp, black Oxford shoes stressed to creep their way up the last fire-escape ladder, of which was latched onto the side of the building; it was one of the lesser endorsed piece of architecture, but still housed something of value. A silohouette cautiously, but firmly, clambered up to the edge of the building. Surrounding block lights provided a slight shine in the darkness, and revealed the outline of a square black case being gripped in the figure's hand. Black gloves flexed in tension at the sight of another figure.

"Oh great..." A slight whisper escaped the man's mouth.

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"Ah... haha..." A nervous, almost sarcastic chuckle greeted the woman's demand. The man lifted his brief-case to the edge of his eye-line; one could see he was using it as a shield, if she happened to fire at him. However, this scenario was far from serious, in his mind.

"No one's really supposed to be up here... Do you mind?" There would be no unveilment of the snarky expression on his face: Precarious looking masks tend to hide things a great deal better. A fully-equipped gas-mask, to be specific. The voice emitter constructed into his mask allowed for clear audio. "Why are you up here, again?" He titled his head to the side, appearing as a child would.

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"It's Proxy, actually. 'Tis what I am, after all, Miss... Katie." He expressed her name quite pointedly. "Which paper? I could give them a storrry." He cooed, seeming one bolt loose of sanity. "Might be too rated R for you, though. You're like.." He eyed the girl's chest, which fit well with her boisterous disposition. "18, or something?"

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"Funny... I'm in a similar situation." A precarious statement, but one he would quickly avert from. "Just one moment, and I'll give you something to hel you understand the details of my story a little better." He lowered the suit-case from his chest, and leveled it atop his arm, as a server would. The clicks of the case un-clipping sounded, before he slipped his hand into retireve an unknown object. As it was very dimly lit, the object could only be assumed to resemble a solid, round shape. A single click echoed, as something small and metalic clinked to the ground, before the man tossed the object underhand to Katie; like a baseball. "Catch."

She'd have a mere five seconds to realize what this toy was; it harbored the explosive wisp of death. "That'll tell you all you need to know. 'til next time! Ciao!" He quickly waved a hand to her. Just like so, he quickly turned on his heels and began to make a brisk walk to the entry door, of which led back inside the building.

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The grenade spiraled upon impact of the bullet, for one-tenth of a second, before it dropped to the ground. One second left. The elusive Proxy began to chuckle to himself, though he did not waste a moment turning around to gloat; he bee-lined toward the door-way.

No matter what took place after, he would be gone, and the grenade would explode, causing fragmentation to spread an estimated fifteen-yards. The explosion would leave a gaping hole in the roof, and side of the building, where the two platforms met. A presumed damage to the hang-glider, from the blast, would be fatal; it depended on how fast the girl was descending.

The Proxy jogged down the stairs, logically not using the elevator for case of fire; the common hazard sign. "May we never meet again." His voice held a prime sense of victory.

The setting changes from wing-city to The Abandoned Slums

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The slums. Two red orbs glimmered in the evening sun, which barely allowed it's light to shine on such a dim place. The eyes behind these dense, red goggles marvelled at the discrimination of Wing City's poorer attributes.

There was no other base in the city for so much corruption to thrive. Even now the fading scream of a divested prostitute echoed throughout the streets. Present eyes did not remark her obvious death, because she was nothing to remark.

A black suit sauntered down the sidewalk, briefcase in hand. The encroachment of destituion aside, there was life inside these metal shafts called buildings. This Proxy could smell it, though a precrarious gasmask enforced his inhalement of fresh air. He found it suitable for such a place, anyway.

The shaded outline of his person allowed him to appear as a viper creeping to its prey. Bystanders yards away form the building watched, only to look away when they caught his attention. "Loathsome vermin." His voice automated the audio transmitter built into his mask. A hand clad in black leather knocked knuckles on the rusted aluminum of the door. A resonating gong of rotten metal slandered the silence of the streets. "Knock, knock..."

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The man stared silently at his offenders. He toko one step back from the door-way. "Okay. Before I do that, just let me deliver this." He cautiously pointed at his briefcase, and perched it on his arm as a waiter would a tray. He sustained a grip on the case as he quickly unclipped the latches. Folding it open just engouh to slip his hand in to pull out its unkown contents.

"Don't worry, it's just a bit of paperwork. An invitation, really." His hand slipped out, only to reveal a piece of paper with various paragraphs printed. Initially he outstretched his hand to the man, before suddenly crumpling it up throwing it at his face.

"Oh and there's this..." He quickly shoved his hand into the case; the subtle clicking of metal would be heard, and then there was a second click. The man would fling out a fragment grenade into the floor of the door-way.

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He was a messenger, a delivery boy: A Proxy. The suited figure gave teh Asian man a quick salute, before sprinting opposite of the building. He would keep moving, until the grenade finally went off. He threw his briefcase over-shoulder; it was a deliberate action, as the case was layered with bullet-proof properties. "...Three, two, one..."

Boom

In the darkness he slipped behind a metal dumpster for cover, as the entire building exploded into flames. The light of burning debris seemed to illuminate the whole of the slums. Large bits of the building walls expelled in all directions; the mere force would cause collateral to other surrounding aspects of the street. Only after two otehr minor explosions was the entire structure leveled. The remains were nothing, but rubble.

The message was delivered. The Multiverse have mercy on whoever stayed close to that building.

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He reached up his hand to seemingly pinchteh bridge of his nose. "Phew. Shit smells." Due to his mask, that's about all the affect the chemical outburst had on his lungs. He leaned against the dumpster. He leveled one eye to peek out parallel to the edge of the dumspter. He scanned the area, which was still being showered by straggling debris. He watched the silhouettes of the few men scrambling from the building.

"Time to call in." His hand reached into his inner-jacket pocket, and slipped out a cellphone. The number was speed dial; one click of a button and the call was made. His eyes never left the men. "It's done. Leave the car at the side-walk entrance of the slums." The call was ended just like that. He unclipped the case, and disclosed another grenade. However, he did not aim it at the few remaining enemies. It was slipped into his pants pocket. He would keep his hand shoved inside, until he reached the checkpoint.

His shadow was all that was left behind him. The quick rhythm of clicking heels carried Proxy down the corner of the street to make his escape.

The setting changes from the-abandoned-slums to Side Alley

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The rays of noon light avoided this shade. A grooved silhouette slinked into a side alley. A precarious proxy lingering the recesses of Wing City, assigned to a deed by its master.

Business was always the a part to play in these adventures. A par build of body, fitted with a black suit of equal standard. A black briefcase dangled in the right hand; a pseudonymous part did the case hold, as business was always booming.

A slight hum sounded from the suit. The glow of a cell-phone screen blared in the darkness of the alley, as the man pulled it out of his inner-jacket pocket. The light would all but vanish, as the call took place. "Yes. ... Sol Avenue. Yes. Understood." The phone was replaced in his pocket. He sought it as a positive choice to take this side-alley, after all, to reach Sol Avenue quicker. Just business.

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posted. brb.

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Two red orbs stung the greyness of the alley with a glare of color; they blurred in motion, as they shifted from one direction to look up at the opposing sound of the gunshot. An audio tone of a man's voice emitted from the speakers built into the gasmask, of which fully concealed the wearer's face. "Well," He stared up at the woman, who he didn't initially recall. "I suppose I've got no choice, do I?" He raised his hands, cautiously, though reserving a steady motion; the case dangled from his thumb.

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He deemed it better to leave this situation peacefully, and without more bullets flying over his head. "I'm the only one who carries out that sort of business for my benefactor, and I can assure you, you are not on the to-do list. If you don't mind, I have somewhere to be." He tilted his head toward the sniper to confirm her release of him.

The setting changes from side-alley to Main Street 1

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Bullets holes littered the backside of the car, subsequently shattering the back windshield. Only when clink of the grenade hitting the ground elsewhere, did the Proxy notice his counter-attack would be all but useless. The bang of the grenade would still go off within seconds, and a giant puff of smoke would clutter the few yards it had been thrown.

"Interesting..." He mused.

Subsequently, he shoved his hand into the brief case, spotting the handgun; it had been modified with a suppressor barrel. Still taking shield in the front seat, the barrel of the gun peeked out the driver's side to blindly aim at the oppressor with the sword.

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Two shots were fired.

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The bullets were directed back, bu had strayed off target without the precise aim and direction of a gun-barrel. The opened car door had two holes, now, through and through.

Upon hearing the words of the man holding Gabby hostage, Proxy had flipped his pistol upward in a surrender-like fashion. His instructions were to only take care of the girl; no other bodies.

"Hey!" He began to shout from inside the car, just after Viktor had agreed to depart with the other men. "I have a solution to this problem!" He yelled louder, carrying a matter-of-fact tone. "Just send the girl over to me." He paused, waiting for them to perhaps reach a conclusion of thought. "I do not require Viktor. You can keep him. I just want the girl."

His body, figure even, was yet to be seen by any of them. He waved at them with the pistol; it was the only object to reveal itself outside of the car.

He soon took notice of the swirls of power and energy exchanged between the man with the sword and the drunkard. Proxy peeked over the driver side seat. "You can do whatever you want with that man, as well...!" He shouted half-heartedly. He wondered what the Asian man was blabbering about, until he heard the only two words he could discern: 'Terran Militia.' The Proxy glared at the man from behind the red spectacled goggles of his mask.

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"Mister Viktor!" Proxy called out. His voice nurtured a persuasive tone. As the gun hit the ground, Proxy silently nodded. He carefully stared out the shattered back window.

"He dropped his weapon. Now, send her over to me." A hand slipped into the brief case, once more, to retrieve another surprise, if they intended for things to go a different way.

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Proxy dropped his head and began to shake it in defeat, once the sounding helicopter had approached. A sigh escaped his wordless mouth.

"Gabriella DeLeon! If you don't want to be shot by that thing up there, then get in the car!" He shouted, still taking cover in the vehicle, though waving a hand out the door.

"I'm a friend of Myles!" He yelled, louder than before.

Of course, when the shots were fired, Proxy jerked his hand back inside. "Gabby...!" He shouted after her, during the attack.

He quickly slipped out another grenade from his briefcase. It was the surprise. Suddenly, in the ensuing action, Proxy dashed out of the car intoa somersault on the pavement. One hand clenched the grenade; it was not yet armed. There was no time wasted, as he cocked the hammer, and took only seconds to steadily aim his pistol at Gabby's leg. He fired one shot, though the sound o the shot was all but silent with the suppressor attached and a forty-foot helicopter hovering above.

Proxy arose from his knee, and sprinted after Gabby. His thumb slipped through the ring of the grenade, pulling it loose. It was armed, though he held the trigger.

"Grenade!" He called, autonomously warning everyone, of course.

Not in the blink of an eye would Proxy wing the grenade straight into the air, and huddle to Gabby's position to lift her up on his shoulder to begin carrying her away within the seconds before the explosion.

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Upon the wretched sound of incoming bullets, Proxy had reached the car. Essentially, before he got into the car himself, which was still running this whole time, he shoved Gabby through into the car seat, with no regard for her injury.

He scrambled to put the vehicle in gear; luckily it was automatic, thus more simple, and allowing for no build up of throttle to keep the car in place for the remaining seconds of fire from the helicopter.

The Cadillac had swerved this way and that, as a u-turn was made to get out of the parking lot. Proxy didn't bother slowing down to watch the Empire's men get mowed down.

It was only a few yards from the space to the exit of the parking lot, which immedeatiley entered out to the streets of Wing City.

The setting changes from main-street-1 to Lady Une Drive

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The blurts of loud, squealing tires echoed around the next block, as a black Cadi drifted down the streets of Wing City. Several shouts of profanity followed the car every passing minute. The rush of adrenaline kept the driver focused on his destination. The engine was kept at a constant four-thousand RPMs; who cared about a speeding ticket?

The opened doors of the car flapped this way and that; luckily they slammed closed after the Cadi took a tactfully abrupt swerve around the next corner. The vehicle had been crashed, and shot to pieces from the previous incident.

Proxy held a steady grip on the wheel. He spared a glance, or two, at Gabby to assure she was still awake. Quickly he slipped his hand into his inner-jacket pocket, and pulled out a cellphone. His thumb jammed one number; somebody was about to get a call from speed-dial.

The Cadi passed a familiar cafe on the way.

Proxy's solid structure, and calm breath didn't betray to show any impatience, though he was very irritable. The inept ringing from the phone caused his grip to tighten on the steering wheel. The one on the recieving end of this call worked for Hatchet, as well. There must have been reason he kept her around. This Proxy was well aware of her absence from the previous events. It was time to make use of her.

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He jerked the phone away from his ear; he could hear the blaring voice just fine through his mask. Proxy stayed silent for a moment, and shifted another glance at Gabby. "You've been shot." He motioned toward her leg. "You need medical attention." His voice was flat. There was no intent behind his words. That information was the only thing she needed to know, no matter how obvious it was.

Proxy placed the phone back up to his ear, just in time to catch Vargas' last words. He began to shake his head in dispute at what seemed like an incompetent associate. "Hatchet needs you to do something." He professed. "I have an injured girl, and I'm on my way to your house. She's been shot in the calf, through and through." There was a slight pause, as Proxy eyed Gabby's wound. "I'll be there in two minutes."

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Lady Une Drive was all but peaceful, until the sound of the Cadillac coupe could be heard within a fleeting distance. Soon, it would be in sight, charging down the street, toward the the mail box of Vargas' house. The pedal was suddenly stomped to the ground, which would probably cause Gabby to jerk back in the seat.

He peered at the figure, of which stood on the porch stairs of the house. The car continued to speed, until the driver wrenched the emergency break, and in-turn, squealed to a crashing halt. The crash was the mail box getting leveled underneath a spinning Cadi rear.

The car was parked lop sided on the side-walk. Proxy wasted no time in stepping out of the car, and pacing to the passenger side to assist Gabby in getting out. Whether or not it meant using force, was up to the girl.

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The man stumbled back a step. He shook his head in a quiet daze, though no composure was lost. Proxy heaved a sigh. "I'm not going to hurt-" His eyes caught the figure running. He tilted his head, somewhat confused. He jolted back, as she lifted him. He didn't seem to struggle, though he did wonder profoundly what in the hell she was doing.

"If you are Delta Vargas, then I won't kill you. If not, then you will be eliminated." He looked down at her, once more. "If you don't let go, I'm going to get an erection." His voice was as plain, and automated as it could be. This Proxy was male, though. That was very clear. He felt the need to inform Delta of that.

He looked back at Gabby. "I was going to say, I'm not going to hurt you." Although it would seem awkward, he motioned a hand toward Vargas. "This woman, who should be Delta Vargas, will assist us with your injuries."

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Proxy batted a lash at Gabby's demand. After being let down, he stared back into Vargas' green eyes; the red orbs might have burned into her vision, as he did not move for a minute, at most. "Help me get her inside." It was an order. The thoughts behind the statement were a foreknown knowledge of Vargas' attitude; Proxy had been informed by Hatchet of the woman.

The leather shoes clicked on the sidewalk, as Proxy strutted toward Gabby in a business-like fashion. Within the slightest hint of a scramble to get away, Proxy would hastely subdue her with a shoulder-lock. He might have carried her through the thresh hold, if she hadn't rebuttled. Not now.

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Posted/msg Canibelle