|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 30, 2016 13:24:15 GMT 2
Why do you care? That's exactly where Spencer was wrong. Bishop didn't care, he was making sure the Bianchi's investments wasn't wasted, and in order for that to be the case, he wasn't even allowed to break that man's nose as well. His words did not phase him, the number of times he heard people tell him to go fuck himself was irrelevant to him, not part of his worries. You could insult the man countless times, it didn't change his goal nor his mind. Bishop Damian was the kind of guy you would have loved to have watching over you as a kid. Bullies weren't a threat to him, and they still weren't now. It took way too much to get the man truly angered, and even more to make him feel...something. What he did often feel however was the sorrow of seing this world the way it was: Decadent, sinful and he was a part of it. But he wasn't a part of it against his will no, he willingly helped people commit mischief, because in the end, there was no use in trying to change a world that didn't want to be changed. So the man rolled with it, exercising what was needed rather than what was right. He had no side, and took the side of those willing to pay him enough to make him work for them.
He raised the stash away from the man, the action rather easy because of his height. Did this Spencer have no dignity at all? He was whimpering and seemed to even have tears crawling out of his eyes. It made Bishop roll his eyes in exasperation as he grabbed the man's collar slowly. Shouldn't have put a shirt back on, it only made it easy for the bouncer to grab a hold of him, even if the long neck would have been just as easy to grab. "You just took a shot, you can part with this for a few more hours. This establishment has a reputation to keep, so if you wish you keep your job, you will have to act like you damn well want to." he roared as one of his colleagues came at the door to look at what the mess was all about. Bishop kept his strong grip on Spencer as he looked at the second bodyguard. "Take this, and don't speak a word of it to anyone. Put it in the local, I'll take it back when I'm done here." he ordered and his colleague complied, obviously knowing not to question Bishop's words and do exactly what he was asked to. He took the stash and walked out, automatically trying to close the door behind, but of course there wasn't much to close it with. The body outside was being dragged, and no the man wasn't dead.
He looked at Spencer with a displeased look when he started to justify himself. "Stop trying to confess I'm not a preacher." The money he had handed up earlier was now on the floor, and he to remind himself to pick it back up before leaving, but for the meantime he needed to slap in some sense into that man. He dragged him to the bed, forcing him upon it before putting a knee on Spencer's abdomen. He kept his grip on the man's shirt, a severe frown on his face. "My job is to protect Bianchi investments. So you get to work when the next person comes in, then I might give you your stash right away. I don't care if you die of an overdose when you are walking in the streets, but what I do care about is the blood that could be spat on this establishment's visit card." he removed his knee from the man's abdomen and would attempt to take off his shirt. "Have some pride and show that you deserve that stash back. Earn it." he would take a step back to walk to the floor and pick up his money, leaving a five dollar bill where it was, judging the man had been moved around enough to deserve a small payment. If this was it, Bishop would leave without any other words, otherwise he'd wait for more stupid complaints coming from the man.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 30, 2016 3:19:42 GMT 2
He rose his eyes from the carpet, looking at the slim man, prepping himself a shot. He frowned even more at the sight and crossed his arms. He was aware of the man's issues, but this was not how you pleased customers. This was a respectable establishment, why was that kid hired in the first place? Was he that good at blowing? Bishop could hear his mind annoyed to death because of this, however he barely showed his annoyance and waited for Spencer to be done. So the customer owed money already? Great, maybe he should go look in his wallet for this and get the due money. This wasn't his job, someone will come down the hallway to take care of the mess. So now what? Was this little brat ready to work tonight or was he scared shitless and won't be able to do anything worth paying for?
He looked at the man as he got up, his slim back nearly showing his spine and rib cage as he moved. He guessed some people truly had a thing for feeble looking beings. He knew and understood the man's history, but he wasn't the type to mourn for someone's terrible past life. A glance at his own backstory and he was already full of it. He didn't want to hear about how miserable your life used to be, he needed to hear how you'll change it to make it better. And that was only if he cared, which was not something someone ever accomplished. Making Bishop care was a hard task, and no involving money did not make him care, it only sold his works and talents.
Spencer came back with with something in his hand, money. This was ridiculous. The man truly thought that he could buy his silence with money? He didn't nearly have enough money to accomplish that, and even then he would have to convince Bishop that he was a worthy employer. "Put that away." he said, pushing the man's hand aside. If Shaun found out about the man's bad habit he will feed him to the tigers. So Bishop walked up to where the stash was, thinking of destroying it, but then remembering that this wasn't the best way to cure someone for this. He took the stash between his hands, quickly looking inside. "If you have more you are to give it to me now." he said with a strong voice, stepping closer to Spencer. "Whenever you are in dire need of this, you come see me. Me and no one else, am I clear? If I catch you doing this again there will be no third time." he warned, looking at Spencer his both eyes in a menacing way. If this man couldn't pull himself together, Bishop will have to do it for him. He searched his own pocket, taking out some money. "This, I assume is what you would have been paid tonight. Pull yourself together and work, or take a damn break." he said, slapping the money into the man's hand.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 29, 2016 22:43:43 GMT 2
The Tiger Den, a living paradise and a very alive purgatory for anyone who dared to step inside. Every Friday night, and sometimes other nights in the week, Damian Bishop was to keep an eye on the place, bouncer and bodyguard for the workers. Not every establishment was given such a privilege, such security, but here they had it. Many others could have applied for the work, if only they didn't show their weaknesses on the first or second day. It was so easy for a man to throw away all responsibilities when they were in such an environment. Bishop was one of the few who was able to put job in front of primal needs. Lust was not one of his sins, even if he devoted himself to sin of lust every once in a while. But he kept that for when he wasn't working, when he had what others called a day off, and what he called a law convention for workers so it doesn't look like slavery.
He was standing in the hallways, walking slowly from door to door, listening and looking at everyone who walked through the corridors, hallways and open room. He wasn't to disturb and only needed to come in if needed. So far tonight, no issues except for a drunk customer who was kicked out earlier. One could see this as a boring job, but quite frankly, from Bishop's point of view, it was all very entertaining. Interesting people passed by from time to time, and on some rare occasions they even had an interesting story to tell. However most of the time, the people coming here were rich snobs looking to get their pipes cleaned or their chimneys swept. He couldn't deny the qualities of the establishment, which was one of the finest if not the only in Chicago. How many brothels could you think of that had actual tigers laying somewhere in a corner, watching the guests with hungry eyes but not always eating them.
The man was always well dressed for the job. Tie, suit, combed hair...but yes the hair and beard was usually blue. For this type of job he did not care much for how people looked at him. He was often used to criticism but he found none in the Tiger Den. People were too busy with their own matters to notice or bother to think of a comment.
As he walked down one of the hallways, still listening to whatever may come out of the doors, he heard what he was supposed to look out for. He heard complaints from down the hallway and he hurried his steps to get there, hearing the complaints and yelps of a man inside. He knew who was behind this door, just like he knew who was behind each door. He turned the doorknob in an attempt to open it, but it was locked. The Client inside, or the worker inside broke one of the rules of this establishment. Things were about to get messy. The man took a few step back, and with one, strong jerk of his upper body into the door, he was able to open it. The art of opening a door, nothing to spit on.
Inside there was the client, already nearly naked, then the worker, Spider, or was it Spander? Spandex? No that's a stupid material people love to dress themselves in. No matter the name, he seemed unwilling to get to work tonight, and the customer had a red enough face to Bishop's taste. He took a few steps close. "Step back." he ordered at once, but as the customer got angry and turned around, it was clear he wasn't ready to cooperate. "Fuck off man" said the man in boxers, looking at Bishop with a despised look on his face. That was the only thing that was needed for Bishop to get to the real job. He walked until he was close enough to the man, suggesting one last order. "Leave" no sir, or please, this man wasn't to be invited here again. The rules here were strict. One wrong step you didn't pay for, then you are banned, the hard way. "I'm not done yet" said the despicable man, who despite his height, barely made it to Bishop's chin with the top of his head.
Three seconds, that was all that was left for the man to back off, until Bishop brought down his sentence. And the sentence was indeed brought down hard. The bodyguard kicked his head forward, right onto the man's nose bridge, making him fall instantly to the floor, the impact of the hit letting a trail of blood on the customer's face. Bishop didn't even look like he had done it, not a spec of blood on his skin or clothes, yet. He took out a card from his pocket and slipped it inside the man's boxers before dragging the body out of the room, throwing the clothes on top of the man as soon as he was out in the corridor. The card held the message that this customer was no longer welcome, letting him know (when he woke up) that he wasn't to come back, or even attempt to.
Bishop walked back in the room, looking at the busted door for a second. Such a fancy piece of furniture, a shame that it had to fly in debris this way. He shot a look at_whatever his name was. "Did he hurt you?" he asked of his strong voice, a frown on his face. He was asking by pure convention, not like he cared one bit for_ Black??something. Not so god with names, but at least he was excellent with face. He took a few steps closer, looking at the three blood drops on the carpet. Again, shame.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 19, 2016 10:52:21 GMT 2
Ohboy (yes that's a word in my book)
|
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 14, 2016 8:35:07 GMT 2
BISHOP to JACOBShould I tell him how he got the bruise on his ass or just enjoy his theories? |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Feb 10, 2016 18:05:13 GMT 2
Not very subtle was she? He thought the preying Bianchi godmother would have slowly immersed Summers into his punishment, but instead she already brought him in a less than welcoming room. A cold interrogation room by the looks of it. His eyes flicked at each corner of the room, searching for anything he should notice that could be a danger to his employer. Employer that didn't pay him yet. Bishop was still bitter about that, especially since he saw all that money be eaten away by his gambling. That pig was hungrier than any other client he's ever had, he didn't know what was holding him back to slaughter him right on the spot with his own belt. Maybe he should just become a nightclub bouncer again, that job paid pretty well, and he was free of dying his hair the color he wanted, punch the people he deemed too touchy or bold, get a few drinks at 5 in the morning when everyone was passed out. But the job was dull, it had no impact on the world, while working for more important people, who knows when you might change the face of the world by pushing them away from a bullet? As sad as it may be, the rich people of this world rule what is today and shape what tomorrow shall be. The Bianchi themselves are the sculptures of their Mafia family ancestors, shaped into better shapes each generation, and molding new heads to take upon the world in future years. The Mafia was known to have played a great roll in America's history, and it wasn't done yet.
His eyes moved back to Theresa as he finally finished inspecting the room. Now was the time to inspect the Bianchi Godmother. She may be dressed in elegant drapery, the dress revealing more than hiding should make it easy for the man to know if she was armed. As she moved around, he tried to catch an unusual fold among the others, a darker spot under the fabric, a weapon strapped to her leg, nothing. Instead he found himself searching for perhaps a little too long, his eyes raising up to the woman's to find the weapon he was looking for. It was all there, in those green eyes. The flames of malice, the plan unraveling slowly, the hungry eyes a predator had when a prey was defenseless before it. She smiled widely as Summers called her by her name, and the bodyguard help back a chuckle. He pried his eyes away to look at Summers who had no shame in keeping his eyes locked on the Bianchi's good family traits. In Bishop's eyes, amusement glinted as the situation went on.
And here came the money talk. Summers jumped right into it, and Theresa's looming shadow of power slowly grew larger. Bishop remained calm, perhaps a little too calm, observing the situation, and mostly Theresa's movements. He was also making sure Summers wouldn't do anything stupid, like, lets say: Attack the most important Bianchi member there was. Summers' death would come without warning or wait if he happened to do something as stupid as that. As the Bianchi Godmother started to state the situation more clearly for Summers' stupid mind, her tone grew menacing, clearly stating a threat. Bishop's contract forced to react as a warning, and he reached inside his suit to grab the gun carefully placed there. You could distinctly hear the click of the weapon's security being lifted while the man's hand remained in place. Theresa had lifted her eyes to him just at that same moment, being perhaps what froze him in that moment. He didn't move one bit, his eyes locked onto Theresa, waiting for her next move, ready to snap, or relax. An instrument's cord, waiting to be played or snapped.
Fire Meets Gasoline I'll be the Queen's dirty hands |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 31, 2016 13:17:57 GMT 2
Those types of fancy nights, parties of the high class were the types of events Bishop may have partaken the most in. Indeed, the people hiring him were of high class, and they were the ones with money, the money needed to request his services. Granted, when you talk about it that way, Bishop appeared to be the kind of man who had eyes only for money and nothing else. Truth was, he couldn't care less about the green or gold or silver, but from the moment you own money, you don't need to worry about anything else. You see, Bishop hates worrying. It's a waste of time and energy you could spend to do other things. That may be why he is good at his job, because he's able to keep a cold blood even in the most complexe and stressful situation, like maybe his client about to get killed?
One thing was sure, the Bianchi didn't fret from making a memorable night in the mind of their guests. But the host was being ominous. She did what any good host would do, which is greet every single one of her most important guests, giving them a few minutes of her time to talk about things and nothing. Bishop's eyes had regularly come back to her for the simple reason was that he had seen her eyes flee in Summers' direction. Or so he believed. She kept the gesture discrete, but it wasn't the type of detail she could hope to hide to the bodyguard. People say that when you are observed, a sixth sense awakens to ask you to search for the thing or the person observing you. And to feed that impression, the Bianchi Godmother was slowly getting closer to Summers.
So it appeared Summers was her target for tonight. Surely she won't miss an occasion like this to remind the man who she was and why he should pay back his debts. Bishop suspected his employer didn't pay him yet because of all the money he lost in his last gamble. He was there when it happened and quite frankly he never wanted to rat out an idiot as much ever before. Face palming never had been a better way to describe how he felt at the point where he saw the man's hand in poker. So much money lost, it was alarming to know he worked for the Bianchi.
Sure enough, Theresa Bianchi finally reached them, her eyes focused on the frame of Summers and talking with a voice that betrayed other plans in the back of her head. The woman truly was, and purposely was, the golden crown of the event. Dressed as she was with her title looming over her head, no one could walk past her without noticing her. Bishop's ears listened, but his eyes kept fretting away, still keeping an eye on movement around. It was his job after all. And his thoughts were soon met with truth, when Theresa Bianchi invited Summers to retreat in a more private place for a business discussion. The poor fool agreed to it, and Bishop had no say in it, even if he may have let out a low annoyed grunt only he heard, when the Bianchi called them boys.
He followed his employer, just as he followed the Godmother through the hallways of the hotel, through a series of locked doors with codes. As hard as he tried, Bishop's mind couldn't pick up all the codes. There were too many missing numbers Theresa subtly pressed in the combination. They soon reached a room, away from all the noise of the party, away from all ears, and Bishop instantly felt a pressure on his skull diminish. The carpeted floor permitted him to walk soundlessly behind Summers until the man sat down in a chair. Summers had learned to ignore Bishop's presence, since his bodyguard rarely spoke and kept a quiet, almost stone like attitude next to him. Damian joined his hands bellow his belt, his legs slightly parted for equilibrium as he stood next to the chair, his upper body shifted so he could see both his employer and Theresa Bianchi in a simple twitch of his eyes. The woman's attitude was oddly charming, too charming to Bishop's taste. It hid bad intentions, and even if he didn't wish to judge a person he just saw for the first time, it was hard to be mistaken when you are talking to a powerful Mafia Leader to whom you owe money. This, will prove interesting.
Fire Meets Gasoline I'll be the Queen's dirty hands |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 30, 2016 22:48:12 GMT 2
Car rides are possibly some of the most boring things ever to be created by men. He sit in a restrained area without truly being able to move, and it doesn't even matter how comfortable the car was, in the end, you were still in a moving aquarium stuck with other people. And a limousine doesn't change that fact. And it even makes things worse because that means there are more people inside the car, and they can directly talk to each other. It would have been nice for Bishop to be able to look out the window and block out their discussions about many and none interesting topics. However he was to keep a close eye on one of the men in the limousine. The man he was employed to protect during this night for very specific reasons. A rich man by the name of Summers, who had ties with the Bianchi family. This wasn't the first time Bishop was asked to look after him, but more like the 5th time in two months. The man had a knack for going out in very loud and fancy parties, visiting Casinos and other places where he could spend and gain money by gambling. However the problem was right there: He lost more than he won. And since most of that money belonged to the Bianchi family, he was putting himself into very deep waters that will soon drown him. The Bianchi weren't known for being indulgent with their associates. Bishop had kept his mouth closed despite knowing the danger of the man's gambling habit, for as long as he was paid to protect him, he had a job and enough to sustain a healthy life. However today his employer, Mr Summers, had made a very disappointing and bad decision.
He had come to the decision not to pay Bishop before the job was done, in other words, the bodyguard wasn't going to get his paycheck until tonight was over and Summers was still alive. It was a very annoying decision that put the man in a rather bad mood, and he kept his mouth shut even more than usual. He spoke not for the entire car ride until they arrived at the elegant Ivory Hotel in Chicago. Hosted by the Bianchi themselves, the party was some entertainment for only the highest in society invited by the Bianchi Godmother. And Bishop knew that it could be an occasion to remind Mr Summers that he owned a great deal of money to the family. If Damian was that man, he wouldn't have gone to the party in the first place. Only an idiot would come empty handed to the Bianchi.
The car stopped and a man came to open the door for Summers and Bishop to get out, along with the other people inside. Who were they? It really didn't matter. He followed Summers like a shadow, dressed in an elegant black suit that still hid a silenced gun under a thin bulletproof vest. It was nearly invisible, but a trained eye would have no difficulty in seeing it. Inside the hotel, the people were loud, talking and laughing, seemingly having a good time. Bishop kept his sensed alert, keeping in mind that Summers may be living his last night and that the Bianchi may have decided he passed the payday limit. While his eyes trailed around the nicely decorated hotel, he almost instantly saw the one responsible for all this: Theresa Bianchi. And in a dress like that it was hard not to notice her. He didn't pay much more attention to her than to the most generic person in the hotel. To him, even the most forgettable person could be a threat, and until proven otherwise, every single person around him was a potential threat to his employer. Summers greeted almost all of those people in lengthy gestures and polite sentences that Bishop listened to with a third ear. All those mundane conversations about themselves bored him to the brim, but he listened to everything with care, knowing information is almost just as valuable as money itself.
Fire Meets Gasoline I'll be the Queen's dirty hands |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 30, 2016 20:21:45 GMT 2
The sun rises, shines through windows and curtains, bringing a disagreeing sneer to some, or a wide smile to others. People get out of bed slowly and get to work. But Bishop couldn't care less. He was already up since 6 am, doing push ups, cruches and lifting weights in his own room. That was how most of his mornings looked like in his room. He had been expecting someone to come through his door to ask of him to do a specific job that fit in his field of work, but so far, no one came. He didn't always have something to do, but he preferred it when he didn't get bored. Usually when he gets bored, someone gets hurt. Usually it falls on a maid or a gardener, poor souls who asked nothing but just happened to be passing by a bored Damian.
He lifted himself from the nice carpet covering his floor, done with his push ups for now and intending to get something to eat since it appeared his morning would be uneventful. He took the time to get dressed, removing his sleeping clothing and putting on a simple pair of kakis and a white shirt. Pretty much his default attire. He walked out the room, walking in the hallways bare footed, seeing only two maids on his way downstairs. He expected to see more. Perhaps they were busy elsewhere for now, it didn't matter to him anyway until he needed their service. He arrived downstairs and made his way to the kitchen. Before he entered, he heard someone speak in Italian, and it made him grumble slightly in annoyance. It was like a song. Sounded like happy birthday quite frankly. He walked inside the kitchen, noticing first the mess on the counters, until he saw the two women. Valeria's familiar frame, and Theresa's unmistakable one."Morning Mam" he said, mostly directed at Theresa, and quite frankly trying to ignore Valeria. He noticed a small cake next to Val, with a piece of it on a plate. Could it be her birthday and she baked it with Theresa? Or did she bake it herself? Didn't matter, and Bishop didn't care. He wanted to cook some meat with eggs, but to his misfortune, some of the utensils he needed to do that were on the pile of dirty dishes.
After a moment of thought, he grumbled in an annoyed way before picking up the pile of dishes and setting it in the sink, opening the faucet of hot water to dash upon the plates, bowls, spoons and other things Valeria used to bake her cake. He remained silent, doing the dishes and ignoring the two women. He didn't like to do other's chores, but when it was to accomplish one of his own deeds, he felt no need in not doing it. He hoped the two women would just leave the kitchen and not attempt to bother him further.
We need to stop The whole Kitchen thing |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 30, 2016 13:49:25 GMT 2
She did not speak, nor move her lips in a silent Italian swear. Bishop looked at her from the sink he was standing next to, his cigar in his hand, pressed between his fingers as he held it near his collarbone. His blue eyes searched Valeria' frame, as if asking himself if she would collapse here and now before his eyes or wait for him to be gone. At least she seemed to understand his message clearly enough. He did not care if he was going to get any type of punishment for this. If he and her were to live under the same roof, there had to be an understanding of personal space and living habits. He stuck the tip of his cigar between his lips, taking out a lighter from his pocket, igniting his stress reliever with a timid flame. He slid the lighter back into his pocket, sucking on the cigar to put ablaze the embers, smoke escaping his nose while his eyes moved from the tip of the object to Valeria.
He had nothing else to do here, nor did he intend to do anything more. The maids would soon come to clean up his mess. He thought of taking a bottle of bear before he left, but remembered the Bianchi didn't really fashion those easy drinks. He walked towards the door, passing in front of Valeria as he did so but without stopping. He reached the door frame and walked across the hallway to get to the gardens, letting the fresh air of the morning engulf him while ironically smoking his lungs in with burned tabaco.
There's a body in the cooler watch your back, so you aren't the next |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 23, 2016 23:56:47 GMT 2
 You think this is funny? Morrons |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 23, 2016 16:06:55 GMT 2
He could point out the clench in her jaw, the dilation of her iris, the quiver of her lips, and the immobility of her breath for the split second it lasted. It was something he found forever fascinating; the way your body betrays you without your consent when emotions get the best of the situation. There's not always something you can do about it, most of the time you are your own victim, prey to your subconscious and instincts. Though there is one thing that walks against instinct for some people, and that was exactly what was keeping Valeria from keeping her mouth shut and dealing with the situation in a pacific way, in the way that was more reasonable.
She had guts, there was no doubt about that. As Damian walked away towards the exit, having in mind to blow out his own steam through his nose, expiring tabaco and pressure like a steaming train coming at a stop in winter. But he was denied that pacific way of dealing with all this by a raging little mouse who seemed determined to prove something. What was it she wanted to prove exactly was not known to him. But he assumed it was something along the lines of: You have no right to talk this way to me. It didn't matter to him who you were in this Bianchi family, or how much money you have, nor does it matter how much of a dickhead you were, all Bianchi were the same to Bishop. They were his employers, they were paying him to protect them and do their bidding. They weren't paying him to take ethic classes or to learn to be a gentleman. And as long as he receives that money, he won't harm any member of the family physically. No one said anything about verbally threatening or persecuting.
He felt the familiar texture of the cigar leave the gap between his lips, flying away towards the sink. His eyes flashed towards the Italian woman, opened wider with anger in them, his chest slowly rising as she started to pour on him the content of her thoughts. The point of being a Bianchi bodyguard, was that you heard so much more than mostly anyone else around. You pick up information people never think you pick up, you start to create folders in your mind, cautiously putting labels on all of them and ordering it all at the end of the week. He knew more on this woman than half of the people here, simply because he was somewhere at a specific moment and time to hear a specific information. Her husband had been away for too long, and she thinks she must act tough to survive in this world where the meek cannot fight the strong. Her money is her power, not her body. Maybe someone should remind her of that someday.
However today wouldn't be the day he gently tells her to go count her money instead of working out. No today she had hit his spine bone, his nerve wrecker, and he wasn't going to be any type of kind, gentle, delicate man in this moment. His face did not change, anger still flashing in his eyes as he grabbed Valeria by the jaw, walking forward until her back was against the nearest wall. He then pressed his fingers between the gap of her jaw, putting in his fingers to grab her tongue between his index and thumb, firmly gripping the flesh. "Do what happens in a mafia to people who talk too much? We kill them, or cut their tongue out!" his voice rose at his last words. He was barely able to contain the snarl on his face, raging against that woman for being so fucking stubborn and pompous. He added in a lower tone, his eyes burning. "Now stop assuming you know everything. Listen, watch and learn or you won't live very long to understand you've made more than one mistake today." this was an advice, not an actual threat even though it sounded a lot like one. He let go oh her tongue and took a step back, removing his hand from her jaw, only to realize he had been holding her rather tightly. He walked to retrieve his cigar in the sink, wondering if that woman would dare speak again or not.
There's a body in the cooler watch your back, so you aren't the next |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 23, 2016 13:52:26 GMT 2
BISHOP to JACOBShe said she couldn't sleep with a guy who had blood stains on his ceiling. I tried to explain it wasn't my blood, but she still left :( |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 4, 2016 21:45:59 GMT 2
Breakout or The Bianchi employee trailed a while until he finally reached the car he was given to bring back Genan. The Italian was still alive, but won't be for long at this rate. Dark, almost black blood was dripping from the man's head and onto the back seat as Bishop laid him there and fetched some fabric from the trunk to patch the bleeding head. There was going to be a heavy argument when he comes back to the manor. Genan was to be alive for the money he had in his pockets and the power related to that fact. If he died, the money would end up scattered among his daughters, grandsons, and whomever is close enough to him to get the money. It would be a blood bath, and not a hit the Bianchi were ready to take at full blow. Keep him alive so they can get as much advantage from his condition as possible, that was the initial plan.
He drove away from the prison, hearing the alarms set off at the building behind him. He had heard those types of alarms countless times before, and they didn't truly associate with any happy memories. Bishop reached the hospital without too much trouble, and as expected, he wasn't greeted very well. They took Genan in without speaking at first and started to get to work to save his life, but as soon as they started to ask more questions and time past, they weren't so trusting of the large man waiting at the entrance of the hospital. Bishop knew that, but he couldn't leave Genan between life and death, he had to be stable first. And so after a few threats and the call of the Bianchi to let them know what was going on, no one disturbed his peace. He remained at the hospital and was even taken care of his hand by a few nurses under the order of his boss. That hand that he won't be able to use in quite a while. He wondered if he would get a few weeks of break for that. Possibly not, and quite frankly he wasn't asking for a break. He believed he could use only one hand for most of the things he did. It will be a pain not to use his left hand and he'll possibly start using it in two weeks and end up with a deformed hand. He had to resist that temptation to be able to be as efficient as he was before tonight's shooting.
The hand wasn't a nice sight, the bloodied hand with broken bones was now covered in a sterile clean bandage and immobilized in a cast. Interesting, to see his hand in such a defective posture when usually it was the people he tortured that had similar wounds. Whenever he sees the bastard who did this to him again, he won't be as indulgent as tonight. The man shouldn't hope to escape, and should probably try to run away while it's possible. With his free time, Bishop could surely try to find some sort of track for that man, and if he didn't find anything, then perhaps he'll be lucky enough that time and fate will bring the rat to him.
COFFEE |
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 [/quote] |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Jan 3, 2016 20:00:04 GMT 2
Breakout or The very last desk was being moved away, Bishop used his free hand to tip it to the side, moving out of the way while Genan was waiting for him to be finished when the man fell to the floor with a hushed pained cry. Bishop almost didn't hear it, but since he did, he turned around to look at Genan, laying on the floor with blood coming out of his head. Bishop's eyes lit with fury as with a few strides he walked up to Genan's body to take a better look at the wound on his head. A clear sharp cut on the side of the Italian's head, right above his ear. It wasn't deep enough that it would kill the man, but it would kill him if he didn't get any care as soon as possible. This mission was supposed to be easy. That assassin, that man Bishop left alive and allowed to leave, he was the one responsible for making his night a living hell. He wasn't going to stop now however, and will fulfill his mission to bring Genan alive back at the Bianchi Manor, like he was ordered. Even if that meant making a stop at the hospital first and point a gun at a few nurses to get them to work on their newest patient freshly escaped from prison.
He picked the man up, cradling him against his chest. The action was forcing Bishop to lower the gun in his hand and use his impaired one. He still kept the gun, ready to drop Genan to use it if necessary. He won't throw away his own life for that rich scumbag. He got through the front entrance as fast as he could, his arm muscles tensing under the Italian's weight. Yes Italians do eat well, that was something that was indeed striking with some of them, and Genan was one of those who ate fairly well. There were a few lights now, slowly getting to Bishop's location. The guards of the prison were starting to get onto the case, moving the spot lights around the prison's perimeter to find the culprits for the massacre. They probably didn't know Genan was gone yet and only noticed the piles of body. The police will have some job to do, but no one will know about Bishop, because he is on no tape, and the DNA he left behind is that of a ghost. Try tracking a ghost, spoilers: It's impossible.
Bishop was getting away from the prison, headed for the abandoned part of the land where the car was parked. His arms were already soaked in Genan's blood, and if he didn't find a way to stop the bleeding fast, his mission will get the very special tag of failure. Not a pretty tag, and not an appreciated one in Bishop's mind. He was boiling inside, a focused frown constantly clouding his eyes as he took long strides, not slowing down his pace.
COFFEE |
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 [/quote] |
|
