The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
YULIA HOAG
SCENE:
Tigers Arc 1: Scene 3 [The High Life]
LOCATION:
Albino Tiger Penthouse Suite, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Mark
Elenion Aura
, Wonder Woman
GrieveWriter
, Ellie
QuirkyAngel
The High Life
Yulia nodded along as Miss Wonder vaguely rambled her way from subject to subject. She'd heard tell along the grapevine that the white-haired woman was amongst the more peculiar of the Tigers, but she'd thought it had just been gossipers going what gossipers do: Exaggerating. It was egg on her face, then, that she could hardly follow what the woman was saying, doing, and craving. Icecubes and Hamburger Helper was not a gastronomic combination she'd ever expected to see in her life. Or, at least, not outside of a radioactive trailer park.
Elias, the first of the Tiger's illustrious Posh Bastards, on the other hand, seemed to be maintaining a slightly better connection to the physical realm, what with his actual comprehension of the rising ruckus from below.
Yulia groaned in her seat. She had really, honestly, just come to this party to relax, chat shit, and maybe grease up some of her fellow Tigers. Playing Keeper of the Peace was supposed to be even less in her cards than usual, which was quite a difficult fault considering she'd never kept any peace in her life in the first place.
But. But, she considered, maybe that'd be a good way to do that aforementioned greasing she'd come here to do.
~
The familiar aroma of arid, desert air filled Yulia's nostrils. Coarse soil that rode the border between dirt and sand replaced the comfortable, high-end cushion she'd been sat upon, and a forgiving, heatless sun hung high above her head.
As it always did, the gas station that served as the sole attraction in Yulia's desolate inner realm loomed glumly over the arid shrublands, which were otherwise flat and unintriguing. Within, a glistening collection of trinkets, tools, and other miscellaneous valuables contrasted both the rickety shelves they lay upon, and the general aesthetic of the building as a whole. Glittering gold lay in piles atop dusty countertops, weapons were stacked on shelving clearly marked 'Soup and Dried Meats', and a stack of vaults sat next to a fridge that barely looked like it could function.
Yulia was many things, but an interior decorator was not one of them.
Her finger dragged across the rough, hand-cut wood of the soup-section shelves as she browsed her selection of weaponry. The bat was too boring. The chainsaw was too psychotic. The stun gun and pepper spray were both funny, but probably not what she was looking for, which was to make a point.
So...
~
Yulia reappeared inside of the penthouse with a loaded shotgun in her hands. Seeing as she wasn't actually planning to blow anybody's brains out, the only shells she'd bought with her were the ones she had already loaded into the gun, which she would soon see to using.
There was a semblance of either confidence or brashness in Yulia's gait as she pushed past Elias, giving him a nod that intended to communicate the general idea of 'Let me handle this, pretty boy' as she passed him by. The shotgun, which she was holding aloft and pointed skyward, wobbled drunkenly in her grip as she approached the interior veranda that overlooked the lower floor. She briefly eyeballed the crowd below, sifting through the various clusters of bodies and activities that littered it, but quickly gave up on pretending to do this subtly, and fired the shotgun into the air.
The explosive crack of ignited gunpowder filled the air, and the room went quiet. Yulia let the firearm fall from the air, resting it against the railing that lay at the veranda's edge as she regarded the shocked-silent crowd below.
"Hey." As if it were riding the crowd's newborn silence like a sled did fresh snow, Yulia's voice effortlessly glode across the room below. "Which one of you kids is kicking up the ruckus? We're here to have fun, aren't we? Let's not let things get ugly." Yulia's voice was flat as she addressed the crowd. If she was being honest, she didn't really care what they got up to if they left her alone, but her help had... sort of... been asked for, and she figured there was no harm in giving it.
>>> To The Next Post
Elias, the first of the Tiger's illustrious Posh Bastards, on the other hand, seemed to be maintaining a slightly better connection to the physical realm, what with his actual comprehension of the rising ruckus from below.
Yulia groaned in her seat. She had really, honestly, just come to this party to relax, chat shit, and maybe grease up some of her fellow Tigers. Playing Keeper of the Peace was supposed to be even less in her cards than usual, which was quite a difficult fault considering she'd never kept any peace in her life in the first place.
But. But, she considered, maybe that'd be a good way to do that aforementioned greasing she'd come here to do.
~
The familiar aroma of arid, desert air filled Yulia's nostrils. Coarse soil that rode the border between dirt and sand replaced the comfortable, high-end cushion she'd been sat upon, and a forgiving, heatless sun hung high above her head.
As it always did, the gas station that served as the sole attraction in Yulia's desolate inner realm loomed glumly over the arid shrublands, which were otherwise flat and unintriguing. Within, a glistening collection of trinkets, tools, and other miscellaneous valuables contrasted both the rickety shelves they lay upon, and the general aesthetic of the building as a whole. Glittering gold lay in piles atop dusty countertops, weapons were stacked on shelving clearly marked 'Soup and Dried Meats', and a stack of vaults sat next to a fridge that barely looked like it could function.
Yulia was many things, but an interior decorator was not one of them.
Her finger dragged across the rough, hand-cut wood of the soup-section shelves as she browsed her selection of weaponry. The bat was too boring. The chainsaw was too psychotic. The stun gun and pepper spray were both funny, but probably not what she was looking for, which was to make a point.
So...
~
Yulia reappeared inside of the penthouse with a loaded shotgun in her hands. Seeing as she wasn't actually planning to blow anybody's brains out, the only shells she'd bought with her were the ones she had already loaded into the gun, which she would soon see to using.
There was a semblance of either confidence or brashness in Yulia's gait as she pushed past Elias, giving him a nod that intended to communicate the general idea of 'Let me handle this, pretty boy' as she passed him by. The shotgun, which she was holding aloft and pointed skyward, wobbled drunkenly in her grip as she approached the interior veranda that overlooked the lower floor. She briefly eyeballed the crowd below, sifting through the various clusters of bodies and activities that littered it, but quickly gave up on pretending to do this subtly, and fired the shotgun into the air.
The explosive crack of ignited gunpowder filled the air, and the room went quiet. Yulia let the firearm fall from the air, resting it against the railing that lay at the veranda's edge as she regarded the shocked-silent crowd below.
"Hey." As if it were riding the crowd's newborn silence like a sled did fresh snow, Yulia's voice effortlessly glode across the room below. "Which one of you kids is kicking up the ruckus? We're here to have fun, aren't we? Let's not let things get ugly." Yulia's voice was flat as she addressed the crowd. If she was being honest, she didn't really care what they got up to if they left her alone, but her help had... sort of... been asked for, and she figured there was no harm in giving it.
>>> To The Next Post
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