Log [ongoing]

[weisshaar.livejournal.com]

When; Last month.
Rating; Anywhere from PG to R. Depends on your taste pov anyway.
Characters; Heine [weisshaar] & Giovanni [60_08]
Summary; Details their vacation from the City last month, when they went back home to "settle things." shh cover up for hiatus.
Log;

Though outdated and painstaking to retell the exact reasons and exact setup for their journey back Home, there is a simple way to explain why Heine, known for his aggressive denail and stubborness, just finally gave in to all the nagging of his pinstripe "brother," Giovanni, and that is wanting to make him "shut the fuck up." Direct quote.

So, humbling himself, he followed suit as they--well, one of them anyway--bid a bon voyage to the City, but only for more or less a month's time, enough in his seasonless world of the Underground to let tensions precipitate momentarily (until someone else came to stir the shit up again).

Underneath it all, the red-eyed gunner wanted to take the bastard away from whom he loosely considered his "friends," but most especially from the angel girl. In fact, before he stepped through the rare City Exit (which was quite boring, actually), he glanced back, frowning, almost concerned for her well-being; but he huffed and turned away, deciding that his leaving was for the better despite the fact that he knew she'd get hurt either way.

Comments

[weisshaar.livejournal.com]

Spin, slide, pivot behind a column. Discard all the used shells; jump out and bang bang bang. Sounded like the artillery was out; the air was on fire.

There was a pause. Hard breaths and stomping feat scratched the sick green walls, and the last few passengers exited at the thunk and shatter of objects, living or nonliving. It was a beatiful disaster all too common in that area. Alarms were of no use and justice was long buried.

Sweat trickled down his jaw. He loosened the jacket collar in a rough pull; then he laughed hoarsely, feeling his enemy's dangerous proximity.

"Some fucking business. We're the worst agents in history. Let's just finish this."

Metal punctured the ceiling. He was aiming for bringing it down.

[60-08.livejournal.com]

The joy of freier frei, Giovanni thinks. One foot apart, twelve inches of distance, one single breath barely felt that keeps them from - and let me say it and humor our dead audience - biting range.

All it takes is a single motion to tip the balance to one side - never mind who falls first, who reaches out first, whose teeth come close and grip all bloody first.

"You make it sound like we're both undercover."

Giovanni moved.