Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25686329-20150806065755/@comment-25686329-20150814054545

"Yes, let's continue our search." Mused Ticktania. "You seem to know the lay of the land...? Lead the way, you two."

She gestured, invited Mer and Desi to show them the way forward.

- - -

What the Spell happened to her...?

Nix wasn't talking like herself... well, scratch that. She wasn't talking like she usually did when she was around him. I mean, Nicole never admitted when she needed

Those ropes were doing... things to Nicole, and Yankee couldn't help but feel like her good looks and... one or two other assets were wasted on this traitor.

The Yankee's patience broke, but he let it seep through into his words. He began his words with a smile on his face, but the more he spoke, the more the note of amusement fell as was replaced with... sheer... unbridled... malice.

"Heh." Yankee began, taking a single, ginger step back. "Well, I didn't expect you to need my help... You never do..."

"Now, answer me this... Nix --" He said her nickname with an especially demeaning tone. "Considering how that's a pretty impractical gettup to be wearing in the middle of a warzone, and you do not in fact have a viable explanation for how you ended up here, I'm going to ask you a different question... Just who in Blue Hell are you working for?"

Before she could answer he held up a silencing, empty hand. His face was falling rapidly into a growl.

"You know what, don't answer that. I'm aware that you've sold out to De Martin, and that Lance is in on it too.

"Now I'm not going to comment on the nature of your relationship with him, but I will say this: I'd say that when a tough shiz-kicker Nicole Knightley shows up dressed like that, tied up and jiggling to high heaven, I'd wager that somebody's manipulating me, and my...." he choked on the word. "Feelings."

She was protesting now, denying or at least, the Yankee assumed she was. Her lips were moving but the noises fell upon deaf ears, ears that would have none of it.

"I don't know if anything you've said to me before this point was real or not, and now I don't care. All I know is a legitimate kidnapping would have made one whole hekuva lot of noise, and it's odd that none of the guards from the suspiciously close Fort Pew stopped it or intervened. It's like four soldiers blocking a dry well in the middle of the desert... or, in other words...

"...A Trap."

He took a few more steps towards the exit as he brought out a very hard-hitting revolver from one of his leg holsters. He knew it had a full cylinder, he loaded it just before this exchange.

He pointed it at her.

"That makes you the bait, honey." He said. "And I'm gonna show them that the Yankee can't be baited.

Something was rapidly breaking inside of him, bits of his heart and his mind being torn out like weak seams. He thumbed the hammer back on the revolver with a violent grimace.

This was him putting a wrench in the works of whatever stupid 'Plan' Lance and Sandra had set up; if Lance was the muscle (which he surely was) and Sandra was the brains (no objections there) that meant that Nicolette was the balls, the blockade, the eye of the storm that was designed to hit him hard in the emotions rather than physically.

The Yankee decided he wasn't going to let emotions be a factor. He was going to show he had none.

He always joked he was destined to shoot her. Well, if that was true, he'd get a head start now. His solemn, angry face split into a wide, Slasher Smile. He looked her dead in the eye down the barrel of the revolver.

"By the way, Nix, has anyone ever told you that your rack is freakin' amazing?"

He shot her twice in the collarbone and once in the head.

So there.

He shifted his weight, debating exit. They (the co-conspirators) were probably in the rafters, anyway.