Post by Richter on Jun 14, 2008 12:46:21 GMT -4
Hands in his pockets, Richter walked slowly through the halls of the Hospital; visiting hours were nearing their end, and all day long, in the pursuit of Pluses, the Bount had posed as one dying person's nephew or some other relative in order to keep himself being thrown out by by the staff. Thus far, the results were unfavorable.
"Perhaps I should make a few pluses..." He muttered lightly, hands wrist-deep in his jacket pockets; at the day's warmest it had been crisp, making the suit jacket stifling to wear, but now that the sun was beginning to set, it was the perfect time. He sighed lightly, stalking down the hallways, appearing for all the world like a man who'd just lost a close relative; his sharp eyes still grazed the hallways and rooms with open doors as he passed them, though it was all fleeting now.
In only moments, he was standing outside the visitor's entrance to the Hospital as the doors began to lock behind him; the bus had just picked up a load of passengers, leaving the bench empty for the next half hour or so. The well dressed man walked over and took a seat on the bench, holding back a sigh as he simply let himself reflect, thinking to where next he could go in the search of prey. Then he felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head.
"Stand up, kid; do it slow, then give me all your money." Richter bit back a growl as he slowly stood; he hated being referred to as a kid, despite the fact that he very much looked the role. So was the curse of a Bount, he guessed. Ah well.
"You're lucky."
"Why's that?"
"No better place to have your arms broken then at a hospital." And then the Bount proved that he was faster then a teen's trigger finger, quickly stepping to his right before letting both hands fly from his pockets and catch the wrist of the would-be mugger, forcing the hoodlum's aim to be off as he began squeezing off shots before Richter began to squeeze down on his wrists. The shots stopped and the gun-wielder screamed in pain as bones began to give way beneath the Bount's superior strength; Richter then threw the man over his shoulder, slamming him into the pavement, with no real effort.
Before the man could scramble to his feet, Richter reached down and picked up the gun, which had been dropped roughly mid-flip, slid the safety into place, pocketed the weapon, and then went back after the mugger. Just as the man got to his feet, Richter grabbed his right elbow; the man threw his left fist at Richter, which he caught, and then pivoted his grip before pulling the arm over the man's head, then twisted at the elbow, before moving both limbs against the joints.
"Start walking." Richter said over the man's screaming, forcing him to move without really breaking anything, walking him to the other side of the hospital, where he broke the man's right arm before leading him inside, to be left with the nursing staff sans weapon. After the little display, the Bount was quite pleased with himself, humming lightly as he began walking down the street, the stolen gun still in his pocket.
"Perhaps I should make a few pluses..." He muttered lightly, hands wrist-deep in his jacket pockets; at the day's warmest it had been crisp, making the suit jacket stifling to wear, but now that the sun was beginning to set, it was the perfect time. He sighed lightly, stalking down the hallways, appearing for all the world like a man who'd just lost a close relative; his sharp eyes still grazed the hallways and rooms with open doors as he passed them, though it was all fleeting now.
In only moments, he was standing outside the visitor's entrance to the Hospital as the doors began to lock behind him; the bus had just picked up a load of passengers, leaving the bench empty for the next half hour or so. The well dressed man walked over and took a seat on the bench, holding back a sigh as he simply let himself reflect, thinking to where next he could go in the search of prey. Then he felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head.
"Stand up, kid; do it slow, then give me all your money." Richter bit back a growl as he slowly stood; he hated being referred to as a kid, despite the fact that he very much looked the role. So was the curse of a Bount, he guessed. Ah well.
"You're lucky."
"Why's that?"
"No better place to have your arms broken then at a hospital." And then the Bount proved that he was faster then a teen's trigger finger, quickly stepping to his right before letting both hands fly from his pockets and catch the wrist of the would-be mugger, forcing the hoodlum's aim to be off as he began squeezing off shots before Richter began to squeeze down on his wrists. The shots stopped and the gun-wielder screamed in pain as bones began to give way beneath the Bount's superior strength; Richter then threw the man over his shoulder, slamming him into the pavement, with no real effort.
Before the man could scramble to his feet, Richter reached down and picked up the gun, which had been dropped roughly mid-flip, slid the safety into place, pocketed the weapon, and then went back after the mugger. Just as the man got to his feet, Richter grabbed his right elbow; the man threw his left fist at Richter, which he caught, and then pivoted his grip before pulling the arm over the man's head, then twisted at the elbow, before moving both limbs against the joints.
"Start walking." Richter said over the man's screaming, forcing him to move without really breaking anything, walking him to the other side of the hospital, where he broke the man's right arm before leading him inside, to be left with the nursing staff sans weapon. After the little display, the Bount was quite pleased with himself, humming lightly as he began walking down the street, the stolen gun still in his pocket.
