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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 1:15:45 GMT -5
The wandering machine man bumped past a couple people, earning him a few loud and angry yells until they got a good look at his face. Obviously not a native, the pale skinned, pale haired man drew some disgusted looks from those he managed to not make angry. Where one part of his face was death-white flesh turned into a scarred-up scowl, the rest drew tight around the brass plate fixed to his face.
Side-stepping another woman with a frilly dress, Bryan pulled his duster up tighter around his bulk, his other hand moving to pull the strap of his goggles tighter around his head, like he was worried everything he had (which he was wearing) was about to fly off of him for some reason. For the same reasons he kept his distance from the normal people of Paris, Bryan kept his gaze down, deciding he preferred the company of the cobblestones to anyone else while he walked.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 1:23:37 GMT -5
Yoshimitsu recognized the stance of a paranoid man who could quickly become a fighter and decided to give him a wide berth. Of course, the brass plate bolted onto the man's face was very curious and certainly interesting for this time period and this planet--er, city. He let the man pass and move up the street for some distance before he turned to follow, stealthily.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 1:32:46 GMT -5
For what it was worth, Bryan managed to miss just about everyone around him, and took no immediate notice of being followed. Clearly bad at French as he tried to make his way around the streets, he managed to get by with his coarse speaking and landed himself near some place to eat - that is, to say, he managed to barter for cold stew and slightly molded bread that might have suited a pig's trough instead of a human's meal plate.
Seated just in between the tavern he earned his meal from and the shop next door, Bryan leaned up against the bricks with the old tin pot in his lap. After taking a quick glance out into the street, Bryan pulled up the goggles from his eyes and settled them over his brow, then dug into his meal like a hungry dog; a faint blue emanating from the brass plate on his face illuminated his little corner of the alleyway.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 1:37:58 GMT -5
And lit? When was this...thing made? What powered the mechanism and what was its purpose?
Yoshimitsu drew closer but remained across the street, perusing a store front as he casually watched the brass-faced man.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 1:56:01 GMT -5
Like any animal being hunted, Bryan stopped eating, a lump of bread and unknown stew substance in his cheek and looked up, as if smelling the air, then, after a brief glance at his surroundings, Bryan started up again, eating in double time, then pulled his goggles back over his face. The little blue light vanished, and Bryan tossed the pot at the tavern door, heading away at a pace.
Paris... how did he end up there, anyway? Someone lead him to believe that he could find help there, for his... awkward condition... but he had no name, and no face to seek out. As he walked, the duster got caught up on a carriage wheel, causing him to stop to have to free himself before the carriage started again. After a shouting match in English and French ensued, it was verified that he wasn't even European - at least not in direct descent. The foul, muddled English was actually some sort of American, with an ungodly twang to it that would have made any nearby Brit seethe... or vomit. While the duster was open, it was clear that he was wearing a black vest with a formerly white shirt, but they were worn out and dirty, as were the greying slacks he had on beneath. Maybe, once upon a time, he was a respectable human being, but that looked to be as faded as his clothing.
Once he freed himself, Bryan backed away from the main street, keeping himself on the sidewalk. His gaze was up now, as he slowed by street signs, trying to interpret which one was a place to stay - he'd gotten lucky with the food at the other tavern, now he needed a shelter.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 2:00:31 GMT -5
The small man continued to follow, now more curious as to why an American--arguably the most primitive "civilized" country in the west--with enhanced features would be in Paris at all, and clearly without being able to speak much French.
Cautiously, he made himself a little more conspicuous.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 2:06:02 GMT -5
After finding a bakery (and pausing to stare longingly at the food he was unable to buy) and passing it, he stopped when he noticed a reflection in windows that he must have missed due to the protective goggles that kept him from being more of a sight than he already was. Taking a moment to gaze at the window more thoroughly (though it looked to be nothing that would help him in his state) Bryan looked at the strange man through the goggles, not turning his head immediately in the other man's direction.
Taking off again, Bryan started up a rapid pace, heading straightforward, passing by buildings without slowing, wondering if he would be followed, or if it was all in his head.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 2:13:35 GMT -5
The Asian man narrowed his eyes. So, the man was more paranoid than he'd thought. That likely meant he was running from the law, or at least, that was Yoshimitsu's experience.
He picked up his own pace to see what the American would do.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 2:18:33 GMT -5
There it was. Hastened footsteps right behind him. What did that man want with him? He actually had gone a day without getting into a fight, and now someone wanted to change that. Or put him into some damnable sideshow. Regardless of the reason, Bryan found himself doubling back toward the seedier district he'd just left, hoping he'd be able to lose his new "friend" in an alleyway.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 2:28:10 GMT -5
Aha! Running now. Definitely a criminal!
Yoshimitsu grinned and outright ran after the man, one hand on the hilt at his waist.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 2:35:29 GMT -5
All right, this is it, he thought, starting at a run, not slowing himself by looking over his shoulder. He'd seen too many criminals make that mistake and trip themselves over the silliest thing and be caught. But he wasn't the criminal here. However, no one seemed to care about two foreigners playing chase in the slums.
Bryan took a sharp turn, ducking under a line of damp tapestries as he headed right into the narrower alleyways, using the labyrinth of buildings in hopes of an escape. If he hadn't sold his gun to get to this country, he'd put up a better fight - no, there would have been no fight at all, just an ending....
...which Bryan came to as he found himself trapped between two buildings and slick, iron grate that proved rather difficult to climb.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 2:49:43 GMT -5
The mercenary pulled the hilt from his belt, and in two parts, as he ran, some kind of blade from his coat. In a moment the affair was clicked together, he twisted something in the handle and the thing hummed softly to life, causing the air around him to crackle momentarily.
He caught up to the man at a dead end and stopped at the mouth of the alley, speaking in perfect, unaccented English.
"You'd best come out of there."
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 2:56:33 GMT -5
"What the hell do you want with me?" he asked, a frown formed on his lips at hearing English out of this... "Chinaman." Backed against the wall, Bryan really had no means out, other than right through this man, but he wasn't going anywhere quietly.
Backed against the iron and brick, Bryan's loose shirt parted, offering a sight - what looked like a small brass boiler just peeked out of the top of his button-less shirt, before the vest covered it over. Like the plate on his face, it was set into the skin, which scarred around it in a fleshy mess.
"I ain't interested in joinin' your freakshow."
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 3:00:24 GMT -5
"Nippon. Japanese." He corrected.
"I'm not interested in putting you in a 'freakshow' as you say. Why did you run? What laws have you broken, American?"
He approached, cautiously, the humming blade in his hand held stiffly down at his side.
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Post by Bryan Fury on Jun 16, 2008 3:03:36 GMT -5
"You were followin' me. I ain't done nothin' but come here, but that's none of yer business either," barked the American, his horrible twang worsening the more irritated he became. "So if y'ain't got a house unner that coat, I s'ggest you move outta my way so I can git back to my business," and, just because he could, "Chinaman."
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