[Feint]

"You sure you have this memorized?"

"I got it."

"... Okay, I'll trust you. Just don't forget, alright?"

"Do I look stupid to you?"

A dark-furred mekkayena with a stiff, dirty mane sat glaring coldly at the dark shape of his employer, who shifted in their chair with uncertainty. The shadow sighed and stuffed a piece of something in their coat pocket, presumably paper by the crinkly sound it made.

"No, no you don't. Remember, we want him dead, okay? Not beaten, not imprisoned, dead. And don't miss him; we need something he has," the shape threatened.

"I asked you once, I'll ask again, do I look stupid to you?" the mekkayena snarled, teeth bared in fury. He pressed his dirty paws to the table and raised himself up to the shadow's eye level, his stinking breath hitting them full on. The shadow gagged and raised a hand to its face. "I have it memorized. I'm a machine, okay? I remember things, okay? I got it. Okay? Okay?" he snapped, and jumped down from the table. Without waiting for an answer, the ugly beast shuffled out of the dark room into the light of day.

The mekka took care to glance in all directions before jumping down into the brightened alleyway in front of his tiny house, and took another look around again before he set off. His home was the one place he stayed for more than five minutes, and it was a matter of life or death that he kept it hidden. The ugly mekkayena poked his dirty nose out into the main street and took a deep sniff. The scent of unwashed bodies, open sewers, rotting garbage, alcohol, and nightclubs reached his squashed-looking nose--all smells that were typical of the Slums. With a pleased grin, the mekka strode into the open. He kept close to the buildings for caution, he didn't want his appearance to be a usual thing here. At last he spotted an empty side-alley, and darted into its dark embrace. He huddled down in a dirty cloth that had been thrown there from one rape or another and began to review his memories like a video recording. In the back of his eyes, he reviewed the picture and description of the man he was after, just to keep it fresh. With a satisfied nod, the mekka stuck his head near the entrance of the alley and scanned the face of each passerby to find a match. Nothing, nothing...

[robopup24]

Human form

It was another dirty day in the Slums. Cyris would've liked to avoid coming to this dreary place, but it couldn't be helped, really. His stupid cousin twice-removed had urged him to come to visit him, and he had to obey. After all, he might know what the strange tube-thing was...

The Teigu sighed as he flipped open his sketchbook. Almost immediately he stepped in an oily mud puddle, soaking his pants and feet. He jerked back his foot and stormed on, the water squishing in his shoes.

Squish... squish... squish...

Heck, he hated being around here. Everything smelled so... dirty. It sent a shiver down his spine as he peered into the dark alleyways, where watchful and greedy eyes stared back at him from the huddled shapes in the shadows.

Cyris sketched out a smiling stickman, added some flowers and sunshine to go with it. He raised his eyes toward the dreary grey sky and wondered if he should add a sun to it, even if it would only light up his surroundings for a minute or so. No. That'd be too much trouble.

His stomach grumbled. He needed something to eat.

Cyris looked around him, looking for the least shabbiest looking place he could find before heading tentatively toward a shop labeled as the Burping Toad.

The interior almost stank as much as the exterior. Cyris resisted the strong urge to pinch his nose, least he attracted the ill attention of the scowling, bulky man behind the counter. He strolled over to him and forced a smile. "So, hey. What do you have?"

The man pointed upwards. Cyris looked up and saw a tattered and faded sign that showed a variety of torn pictures with equally torn labels beneath them. "Oh, well, that's nice. Erm... I'll have... that one. Is that a sandwich?"

The man slowly nodded. Cyris nodded.

"Oh, okay. I wasn't really sure... erm... do you have any coffee by any chance to go with that?"

(1)

[Feint]

Nothing, nothing, nothing. The mekka curled his lip in irritation. His target was supposed to walk by his hiding place in five minutes; it had been ten. There was little he despised more than waiting, but waiting twice as long as he was supposed to was just ridiculous. He rose to stretch, but a flash of red across his vision made him snap to attention. A large crosshair marking had fixated itself upon a passing stranger; mentally, of course. The mekka locked on to the back of the stranger's green-haired head and superimposed the picture of his target next to him. It was a perfect match. The mekka grinned, baring his thick yellow teeth with pleasure. He could feel his heart beating; the chase was on. The mekka darted back further into the alley and raced to the end as fast as he could go, which wasn't very fast at all. He turned sharply into the main street on the other side of the alleys and charged forward until he reached the back of a sandwich shop that smelled softly minty. He slid to a halt under a boarded window and quietly removed one of the lower boards. He wasn't worried about being caught--hardly anyone ever ventured back to where he was, for the only doors were back doors to shops, and the keepers often got very angry if a customer tried to walk in the back way. He slowly raised his head just barely over the top of one of the boards, then peered cautiously inside. He could see the back of the grimy shopkeeper and his counter, but not much else. His nose twitched as he smelled the interior of the store. There were two people in there, the grimy keeper and his minty-smelling target. At first the mekka was pleased, but then he scowled. He had always eaten his victims to remove the evidence, but there was absolutely no way that enormously fat shopkeeper would fit in his stomach. He had to find another way to dispose of him, or he would have to let his target go. The mekka twisted his head around to try and peer into the corners of the shop, but his vision was blocked on either side. His nose told him that there was a lot of ashes somewhere, but that didn't mean much. The keeper was probably a smoker, or--the mekka immediately ducked his head and crawled out of sight from the window. The keeper had heard him sniffing and turned around, but it didn't appear that he saw him. After a minute or so, the mekka slowly approached the window again and peered through. The shopkeeper was away from the counter, obviously getting or making whatever it was that was ordered. The mekka had a full view of his target and the contents of the counter, one of which was an intimidating gun. The mekka resisted the urge to snicker and trotted away from the store. He would walk in as another customer, and get a better look at the place. Then he would decide how to best kill this minty-smelling thief of his.

A bell tinkled over the door as the mekkayena strode confidently into the Burping Toad and placed himself next to the humanoid teigu. The shopkeeper made an ugly face at the mekka's smell, which made the shop's scent seem not so bad after all. The mekka reared onto the counter and gave the keeper a false grin. "What do you have in the back, shopkeep? I feel like rat droppings today," he said rudely, insulting the place's obvious uncleanliness.

[robopup24]

Cyris was mulling over whether or not the place's coffee would be safe to drink when his nose twitched at a sudden nasty smell that wafted in. He saw a Mekka stroll in and casually insult the store's owner. Cyris coughed, then coughed again, hoping that the person would mistaken it for a cold. God, he smelled awful.

The owner tapped the counter and slid over Cyris's order on a plate. The Teigu gave another forced smile and took it, wandering to the farthest table away from the newcomer. He poked at his sandwich, wondering if there was any unpleasant surprises lurking beneath the innocent-looking slices of white bread. He reminded himself to bring his meals next time when he visited the Slums. Food around here was disgusting. For all he knew, his innocent ham sandwich could contain some rats or something.

He snuck a peek up at the Mekka. For some reason, he felt unusually uncomfortable. And it wasn't just the smell. Cyris coughed again and stared down at his unappetizing meal. If only he could draw better. Then he could draw himself some decent food to eat.

[Feint]

The mekka tilted his head ever-so-slightly to scrutinize his target from the corner of his eye. The teigu seemed nervous. Any thief would, I suppose, he thought to himself. Especially if they stole that, of all things. The mekka turned his attention back to the shopkeeper and found he was already in the process of making something. "Hey! I haven't ordered yet! You had better not've spit in that!" he barked, falling over the counter with fury. The shopkeeper turned and thrust a dry, paper-covered sandwich in the mekka's face.

"Enjoy," he growled.

The mekka froze for a moment, glaring, then snatched the sandwich out of the man's hands with his teeth and strode to a table maybe ten feet away from Cyris. He threw the sandwich down on the table and attempted to clamber into a chair, muttering to himself. Unfortunately for him, the chairs weren't exactly made for nonhuman rears, and he was having some difficulty fitting his large hyena butt in it. At long last he gave in and knocked the chair away out of frustration. The shopkeeper heard the racket and immediately turned around.

He jabbed one fat finger at the mekka and threatened, "Watch it." The mekka pulled back his lips and cackled, a series of short yipping sounds reminiscent of laughter preceded by a musical whoop. The whole effect was rather chilling, as was the mekka's display of yellowing teeth. The keeper turned back to what he was doing, shaking his head lightly. The mekka slowly went to his meal and seized one corner with his massive teeth. In the next second, it was gone. He simply sucked it down without chewing. He cleaned the food off his teeth with his tongue, then made to jump down from his chair and leave. He'd gotten a good look at this place; there was no opportunity for him to murder the teigu without the shopkeeper seeing and sounding an alarm of some sort, or just shooting him in the head with that gun. Just as he'd started to twist around, something dawned on him and he paused. He straitened and sat upright, a thoughtful expression on his face. Slowly a friendly grin spread across his jaws, and he rubbed a paw over his stomach. He made a show of licking his chops and turned to face the teigu he was after. He had just thought of a plan, one he was absolutely sure would work. For that, he needed this teigu's trust. It was time to introduce himself.

"They don't look like much, but they're pretty good, aren't they?" he said invitingly. He tried to sound as friendly as he could, but a naturally raspy voice didn't help him much in that matter.

[robopup24]

Cyris was prodding at his sandwich when he heard a raspy voice speak to him. He turned around to see that bad-smelling Mekka grinning at him, and his tail instinctively curled around the chair's leg. Was that Mekka talking to him? It seemed like there was no one else. Cyris looked around desperately, but saw no one else. Finally, he faced the Mekka and said slowly, "Erm, I guess so. Uh, my compliments to the chef. You're a wonderful person," he added hastily when the shopkeeper glanced his way. "Really, you are."

Cyris turned his attention back to the Mekka and cleared his throat. God, he could still smell that stink. He hoped he wouldn't accidentally wrinkle up his nose. He didn't want to offend this stranger. He seemed more than capable of snapping his neck in half. "Well, thanks for asking, I guess. Who're you?" The Teigu didn't move any closer though. This was, after all, a bad-smelling, shady-looking stranger. Those things often added up to trouble in the Slums.

[Feint]

The mekka's smiled instantaneously vanished when the teigu asked his name. He raised a dirty paw to his squashed nose and pretended to suffer a coughing fit to cover his sudden switch of mood. Give his name? The real one? That was a step. He eyed the teigu suspiciously over his paw as he coughed. I suppose I can trust him--he looks harmless anyway, he reasoned to himself as he brought his fit to an end. He stroked his thick neck with a paw and resumed his wide, inviting grin. "I'm Khamisi Nkosana, a cyborg police officer. I'm on an off day, as you can probably guess." He paused to chuckle. Police officer? Lame. "I wasn't feeling up to working the same old route all day again, so I called in sick. Great idea, isn't it? Sick days?" he asked, ears perked with evident interest. Without waiting for or listening to a response, he glanced away and leaned back more comfortably in his chair. "Well, I think they are," he said, and paused once more. After a brief silence, he turned back to the teigu and started up again. "So who are you? You look..." he paused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "...Ill-suited... to the Slums. Visiting a relative of some sort?" he asked cheerily, not entirely unaware of how accurate his question was.


(ooc: meh, too short. sorry. )

[robopup24]

(Oh, no, it's fine! o3o My musetypething is meh, so I should be the one apologizing for the short posts xD)

"Oh. Erm, I didn't know the Slums had police. But then again, I don't really live here, so..." Cyris gave an 'oh-so-sorry' smile, hoping that he wouldn't offend Kahmisi. "Oh, that was clever of you. Yeah... sick days. I wouldn't really know about them, since I've never really worked in my life... haven't managed to get a job yet and all. Not that I'd want to. Working doesn't really appeal to me."

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause, and Cyris squirmed in his seat. When the Mekka asked about his identity, Cyris leaned back, trying to feign nonchalance. "Yeah, I guess you can say that. I'm... an artist, I guess. I have this gift with paper and pen and all." He paused. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Nkosana. My name's... Cyris." Should he hold out his hand? Maybe he should. The Teigu hesitated before doing so.

[Feint]

Khamisi widened his smile a bit and bobbed his head brightly in acknowledgment. He leaned forward in his chair and tilted his head to one side. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Cyris," he said cheerily, then sat back on his haunches and rested his paws on his protruding stomach. He briefly turned his face to the ceiling to cloak his knitted brow.

I have this gift with paper and pen...

He sighed in a content way and eyed the teigu's sketchbook apprehensively out of the corner of his eye, fully expecting some sort of ink demon to jump out at him. He hated mages and all their magic tricks with a passion, and especially loathed the sudden, unnerving way they had of making weapons from thin air. He had fought a fire-specializing mage once, and was fitted with mechanical eyes after his first two were burned out just as he was going to deliver the last fatal bite. If this kid he was after was a mage, and his employer had "forgotten" to tell him, there was going to be more than one corpse stuffed in a dumpster somewhere for the garbage people to pick up. Khamisi turned his head to look at Cyris and grinned in his fake, friendly way, and scratched the side of his thick, sweaty neck with a dirty forepaw casually. "You have a gift, you say? How fascinating! Tell me about this gift of yours, would you? Or--" he chirped, then paused, trying his hardest to sound interested and not disgusted in some way. He leaned forward in his chair, craning his neck to see the face of the sketchbook better. "--could you, perhaps, show me?" he finished in a somewhat softer voice. He was still smiling, yet there was something unsettling in the way his softly glowing mechanical eyes beamed out from his shadowed, downward-tilted face.

((ooc-- I live! I live! Those never-ending holiday parties have not consumed me yet!))

[robopup24]

(ACK ACK ACK. So sorry! I was stuck in Vegas with no Internet, and I just got it >> Sorry!)

Cyris resisted the urge to squirm away as the Mekka leaned toward him. The Mint Teigu nervously coughed and said, "Sorry, erm, the cold's passing around and all." Geez, this guy was giving him serious bad vibes here. One part of him screamed for him to get the heck out of here while the other part told him that he was being a big baby. "Show you? Well, I guess so. But it's really nothing big, really. Almost everyone else in my family can draw better than me."

He flipped open the sketchbook and sighed. What to draw, what to draw? Something simple, something... nice smelling? A flower, perhaps? Cyris squinted in concentration as he dragged his pen across the paper. A little rounder here, a little rounder there, erase that stray line over there...

"There we go," Cyris muttered. The paper glowed with a dim, white light and POP! a small, badly drawn bird fluttered around the shop, its scribbly form shifting wildly as it moved, its badly colored feathers shifting over one another. Cyris sheepishly grinned as he watched it fly around and willed it to disappear, which it did with a loud squawk.

"See? Nothing much."

[rayquaza7996]

So these were the Slums. Why had she looked here for a job? It stunk, it was dirty, and she was hungry. She was starting to think maybe the job, even though it payed great, was not worth the pay. How was she going to find one Mekka in these street-slums anyhow? There were probably a billion of them! After all, they stunk like this place did.

Silver sighed, looking around. Maybe she could find somewhere cheap to grab some food. Her eyes locked on a little food shop, the Burping Toad, it seemed. What an unappetizing name. It looked cheap, though, so she walked in. She saw the shopkeeper. Hmmm, what did they sell?

Oh, there something was. Turkey sandwitches. They looked edible, which was better than the other food, and so she grinned and bought one. Where to sit? she mused. She looked around, her gray-and-green scales scraping the floor when she accidentally swung her tail. She winced.

Oh! There was an empty seat, with a couple human-forms. Well, maybe it was her Mekka. She doubted it, of course, but perhaps she could get some info about hers if she sat down and chatted.

"I really do hope you don't mind me," she said, going into a human form. She sighed. She had short gray-and-green hair, clearly trimmed that way, and relatively normal white skin. She wore a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting green shirt with a keystone on it. She was about 6 feet tall-tall, though she was a normally large race.

"But anyways, there's not much else to sit and I do like a nice conversation. I thought I saw you with some sort of scribble-bird when I walked in, did I? An intresting gift if I did, though I often see things that aren't there when I skip too many meals, I spose, and yeah...That doesn't really work so well."

[Feint]

((ooc -- Sorry I never posted, I've been busy. Oh, and Khamisi is quad, not human-form. He doesn't have one. ^^;))

When Cyris opened is sketchbook, Khamisi leaned over even further, mecha eyes focused intently on the blank white paper. His friendly smile had gone to dust, and an impatient, almost deadly glare filled its place. His eyes, now that he was closer, could be seen to be mechanical and glowing from within. His right eye, anyway. His left was not an eye at all, but a single, solid piece of gold-colored metal. It was a sliding door that, based on its looks, probably hid some sort of very sensitive equipment. Khamisi had his one functioning eye locked on to Cyris's sketching hand and was following its every stroke like a bat after a moth.

POP!

Khamisi lunged back and cackled loudly in shock as his eyes were burned out of their sockets by a brilliant white fire, pawing wildly at the air. His flailing quickly lost him his balance and he toppled over backwards into a trash can, spilling its contents. The frightened mekka leapt onto his feet and he spun around defensively, baring his teeth at the demonic apparitions the teigu mage had sum... moned? He blinked and tried to relax his tense muscles when he realized there was nothing there. His face flushed with humiliation as he noticed the huge mess he'd made over nothing and gave Cyris a sheepish grin. "Ahh... H-heh, sorry Mr. Cyris, I wasn't... expecting that," he stammered, and hurriedly scooped the spilled trash back into its can with his front paws and righted it. He couldn't get back into his chair without drawing more unwanted attention to himself, so settled for lying comfortably on the floor. He let a minute of silence pass to collect himself and let the incident pass, then mentally prepared for another conversation, something well away from the subject of art. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a humanoid garagnir decided she could sit and eat with them, and effectively putting a halt on his hunt. He scowled furiously at the stranger, eye glowing with malice. No one got between him and his prey, unless they wanted to be another casualty. He wasn't worried about giving his game away through that glare--it could easily be passed off as a dire hatred for interruption since he was clearly about to start talking when she walked up. With a forced smile that looked more like a smirk and a little cough, Khamisi waited for the bold garagnir to introduce herself.

[rayquaza7996]

((All good. Silv has a human form and a couple others, mostly to make up for her very inconvienient size. Sorry for the short post. Didn't know what to say.))

"I am Silver. I heal. Acually, I heal for money. And only for money," she said. She did not like this Mekkayena. "And I apologize for interrupting you. It's rather full in here, and anyhow, I'm trying to figure out a little more about this place. Haven't been in the Slums before. I travel around, do whatever the highest bidder says to. I need the money, you see." She smiled, taking a bite out of her turkey sandwitch. She tossed her head slightly at Khamisi, waiting for an introduction herself.

Let's see...I'm looking for a Mekka. Named Kha-something, they couldn't catch his full name. Assasin. Dark fur. Bad smell. Rude and vicious. 350ks reward. She analyzed him. Seems a possibility. She sighed.

"Oh, sorry. Lost in thought. And you are?" she asked, just in case he hadn't caught the hint.

[robopup24]

Cyril sheepishly grinned when Khamisi fell over and said, "Yeah, a lot of people act that way when they see it. But you should see my siblings. They can draw way better than I can, you know? I'm not even an amateur compared to them."

Suddenly he noticed the newcomer and smiled at her when she introduced herself. "Yeah, I drew that bird. Not that big of a deal. So... yeah. That's what I can do."

He snuck a glance at the Mekka and added, "So... uh... when's your break over?" He didn't want to be rude, but the Kahmisi's stench was starting to get to him a little.

[Feint]

Khamisi straitened his posture slightly and raised his head a little higher to stare down his nose at Silver. He noticed her scrutinizing, and felt invaded. Threatened. As if she were looking to start something. He gave her a dark glare for staring and lowered his head to a less uptight position.

And you are?

Khamisi resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He wasn't giving this stare-girl his name. He'd rather burn himself than listen to her funny voice saying his cherished name. Unfortunately, he'd already given Cyris his real name--if he tried to change it now, he would be confused and suspicious, maybe even afraid. Khamisi was trying to get on his good side, and suspicious feelings were the exact opposite of that he was looking for. He made a mental note to not give his name again. He didn't really need to, he wouldn't die if he had to hear this Silver say his name once or twice, but he wanted to be cautious. He didn't know of any surviving factions out to get him, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Cyris was a very unlikely candidate for an assassin, but a girl of Silver's hefty size had the potential to do some damage. He needed to keep an eye on her. "Nkosana," he grunted, and smirked in a tolerant way. He didn't want to look too friendly, or this Silver might get suspicious about his sudden lack of aggression. He was still supposed to be mad about being interrupted. He turned his head away from Silver and pretended to suddenly catch a flea between two of his front toes. With his face out of their sights, he frowned in a way that wasn't fake at all. He was supposed to be acting, but that interruption honestly did bug him. He'd had something impressive to say, but since he was interrupted he couldn't remember what it was, yet it was persisting in nagging at him in the back of his mind. A red flag for a hidden bomb long since defused. It was pointless, disturbing, and above all, annoying, but he swallowed it to keep his focus. He pulled his face out of his toes and glanced between his two lunchmates, his good eye set in a natural glower from the far back of its deep-set socket. His expression was passive, but the skeletal structure of his entire face seemed to be molded into a permanent heavy-set glare, as if warning those he met of his true intentions. He was just about settled again when he noticed Cyris watching him expectantly. Another question? What were these people, interrogators? "Break? Oh, I'm not on break, I took the day off. So I guess you could say I'm off-break at about midnight," he joked casually and chuckled, though his raspy voice made it sound more like he'd just had a coughing fit.