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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 21, 2009 23:38:11 GMT -5
Amel smirked at the reaction that he got from the other capo. He was surprised by the mention of rumors. Ah, they were true then. He just hoped that there was no way to link Ines back to it. But the girl was smart; she would have covered her tracks.
You’re lying. I know you are. My logic is flawless. Amel moved another pawn forward, plotting out how he could get Aslem’s king into an early check. “So it exchanged hands a few times? Well, it doesn’t matter. I went in under the assumption that you were all armed anyway, and so did all of my men. And here I was polite enough to follow your rules, Aslem. Such horrid hospitality.” Never mind that I'm sorry I didn't think of it myself. He pouted mockingly and glanced down at the pastries again. Remembering that he hadn’t eaten in a while, and that which he had eaten had ended up in an airplane bathroom stall, he couldn’t help but give a quiet groan. The very thought was enough to make him wince away from the sight of food, his body still feeling sick, especially with all of the caffeine in his system.
“You can make it up to me by showing me a good, fair game. I can forgive cheating in real life, but cheating in chess is unforgivable."
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 22, 2009 0:17:30 GMT -5
“Hm, it’s easier to play by the rules in a chess game, isn’t it?” Anslem mused, his fingers tracing over another pawn he moved to clear the way for his Knight. “No lives to consider and no long lasting effects. When this game is over, it’s over, it never affects another game.”
He paused to take another drink of coffee, relishing the caffeine but longing for his depressant. He briefly out a hand to his forehead, how long could he hope to endure without the memories resurfacing? As long as I don’t get triggered, I should be fine.
“We all break the rules, to save or end lives, to achieve our own ends.” He laughed briefly, it was almost bitter yet polite and constrained. “After all, history is written by victors, and it is their view of morality that prevails.”
He looked up at Allen, almost amused, “so I will play by the rules in this game, for it is self contained.”
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 22, 2009 9:57:20 GMT -5
Amel had to hold back a flinch at the words ‘no lives to consider’. When he played chess, he was constantly reminded of those soldiers that had lost their lives unnecessarily because of his mistakes, or even because of their own failure that he should have been able to have taken into account. Amel prided his ability to always be two steps ahead of the enemy and his companions alike. His games were all long lasting effects, as they reminded him again of just how much he had a stake. Each pawn, each knight, each lone queen were all symbolic of his struggle.
He felt a stab of sympathy when Aslem rubbed his forehead. The other capo had probably been up just as long as he had, maybe even longer as he was no doubt part of the kidnapping.
“I see, that’s fairly cynical isn’t it?” he replied, moving his knight up so that it would capture Aslem’s bishop unless he moved it. “How will you write the chapter on the Liberatores when L wipes the lot of you out? By your logic it may as well be written in invisible ink.” It was a childish statement, but he wanted to gauge the reaction of the man to his subtle threat. He picked up the coffee pot to pour himself another cup as he waited on the answer.
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 23, 2009 21:38:52 GMT -5
Do you really believe it is such a certain thing, or do you fear we'll always be there on the periphery of your nightmares, even when you're L? Anslem couldn't tell from the other man's expression, though from what he seen of him so far this was another shot in the dark.
Anslem couldn't help but to laugh darkly, at the thought of this boy being a man who would have to slay hundreds. Would you? Would you inflict such a large scale murder? How funny, did he even know what he was implying? Had he even seen contorted corpses with the agony of their final moments written upon their faces? Of course not, he wouldn't dare expose himself to such horrific things. Anslem knew that much about him.
"Henh, L would have to become far more vicious if he wanted to wipe us out." He looked brazenly at this little man, who might as well been a child to Anslem playing war. "Do you think you could kill me? A child who lived in blood splattered fields? Someone who saw everything horrific about war while the ribs were protruding out of his back and he ate weeds to live?"
Anslem didn't doubt it, Allen kill him in a second if he could. That's what was really funny, he could be spared from starvation, from careless friendly fire, and from invaders; but be slain in some alley by this frail man.
Well I would not make it easy for you. Though certainly he was not the first man to have such a history. Not the only person who had been born at the wrong place. That's why he felt free to tell the other man such things; he was hardly unique.
"You'll have to get your hands quite red if you would wish to kill us all. " he composed himself, and let the bishop be captured in lieu of moving his rook again.
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 27, 2009 0:12:47 GMT -5
Strange, he left such a crucial piece open. Amel didn’t let his shock register on his face, just took the bishop with the knight, leaving it open for one of Aslem’s pawns to take if he wanted. But trading a piece for another in this case was a good idea, so he would allow it. “You think me weak?” Amel asked quietly as he picked the bishop up and placed it at the right side of the board. “You believe that I have not seen war and have not known starvation? You might be right, you might be wrong.”
He paused and sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee and clearing his throat. “You’re allowed to base your opinion of me purely on that assumption of my upbringing, but to do so would be ignorant, I think. You have nothing to go off of besides my appearance. Who is to say that I was not also left alone to starve and that is why I appear so unhealthy now? No matter. To answer your question, yes. I do think that I could kill you. The color of my hands doesn't interest me.” Strange that he was willing to offer such a vivid insight into his childhood, but Amel wouldn’t retaliate. There was no reason for this man to know anything for certain about how he was raised, especially after that explanation. While Amel might not have had the greatest childhood, he certainly was never left starving in the middle of war.
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 27, 2009 9:28:38 GMT -5
"You misunderstand..." Anslem said after he took a drink of coffee. "On two important points."
He licked his lips, and sat back, crossing his ankles beneath the table.
"First, I know more about you than you are apparently aware. You never show yourself on the front lines. Why? Cowardice is a good possibility, however I think it is because you're trying to mimic him. Certainly no coward would have accepted my invitation. Still while L hides for necessary reasons, you are just hoping the you will make the same decisions he does by being in the same position." He paused to take out a cigarette and light it, after taking a long drag and exhaling he continued.
"Except this does disadvantage you. L may have seen the front lines before he became a recluse, but you have never bothered to get the personal experience. I can tell Allen, given how easily you implied mass murder you have never seen what it actually takes to kill a human being. I know you are not that arrogant." He looked down at the chessboard as the cigarette was left idly burning in his hand.
"One of my own assassins told me 'Humans don't want to be killed. They're sturdy creatures and it takes a lot of effort to even kill a small one.' It was why he had to carry such an extensive range of weapons. I am just one man, and while I am perhaps especially determined to live, I may prove to be one of the easier ones to slay if you want to wipe us out. I can assure you, there are those among us who are fiercer, more vicious, and perhaps even more determined than I." He took the knight with his pawn and set it aside before he stood. He drew a pistol and handed it to Allen. With a wry smile, he put his forehead to it.
"What do you think Allen, could you do this to a hundred people? If you pulled the trigger, would you kill me, or would you just injure me? Leave me to slowly bleed to death or spend the rest of my life a comatose vegetable? How great is your blood lust really?" He held the other man's gaze steadily. There was good question if he was indeed insane enough that he let someone else kill him just to prove a point. Perhaps he thought he had a successor to avenge him, or somewhere inside, he was tired of living.
Or perhaps he truly believed Allen didn't have the nerve to kill a man in cold blood even if that man was his enemy.
I think though, to be killed by someone like you Allen...there are many worse ways to die.
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 27, 2009 11:47:19 GMT -5
Amel was shocked to learn that this man knew anything at all about him, but such a thing… It had never occurred to him before to even attempt to show himself on the frontlines. The frontlines were for the killers, the people who had the ability to get things done. While Amel’s brain was always working, his physical weakness wouldn’t ever make it possible for him to do that every time there was a mission. Did Aslem really go out on every single job? Was he crazy? What if he were to die? Then who would command the troops? With no leader, the job would fail, and if the job failed, people died and all the time spent planning was for naught.
Before Amel could make an excuse for never having been seen on the frontlines, Aslem pulled out his gun. The blonde’s arm shuddered as his hand reached for his own, but it was pulled away too fast. A moment of certain death flashed through his mind until he realized that he was holding a gun. Aslem’s gun. To Aslem’s head.
I could do it. I could kill this man where he stands. I could sneak out the back and hope that the people here would just mistake the gunshot as him killing me. But…
This is cheap. This is a ploy. He knows that I won’t kill him, and so he’s making a point.
Whatever the point was, it was loud and clear. While Amel had no qualms about killing anyone who deserved it, he couldn’t bring himself to do it now. He lowered the pistol to underneath Aslem’s chin and tipped it upwards so that the barrel traced along his trachea and down to his collarbone. His grip on the weapon was firm, and his face held malice that was far from feigned.
“You are very interesting, Aslem,” he whispered as he traced the cold metal back up his throat. “You’d be willing to die just to make your point? Do you realize how easy it would be for me to shoot you and walk away? Maybe here.” He jabbed the gun in a soft part in the neck. “Or here.” He moved it up to just between his eyes, the barrel pressed so hard that it might leave a small circular mark in its wake.
“Of maybe I should just shoot your balls off and leave you living in that state. That would be more of an insult than killing you, I think.” Instead of illustrating, he put the gun back on the table, clumsily since his hand was shaking a tiny bit.
“However, I still haven’t beaten you yet.” His queen came out now, in a direct line upwards to steal the pawn that had taken his knight, in a straight diagonal line to his king.
“Check.” There was only one place he could move it to, out of the line of the queen’s path, but when he did, Amel would only chase it upwards with his queen until it was cornered. This game would be over soon.
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 30, 2009 21:17:15 GMT -5
Anslem couldn't help but to smirk as Allen laid the gun down. He of course had planned on that, but relief was not the feeling the filled him as much as satisfaction.
"Well, if that's the only thing preventing you from killing me," he moved the pawn, to the side and out of the way of Allen's king. An illegal move, but it was obvious this man played by his own rules. He left the gun on the table and stepped back.
"There, now you have your victory, or are you angry I just gave it to you? That I don't play by your rules? There's a lesson here Allen, and really if you feel cross about it," he looked at the gun that was far closer to the other man then himself now. "You can kill me now."
He laughed softly, "before I kill you on the battlefield because I cheat."
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 31, 2009 10:18:39 GMT -5
Amel stared at the board, his sense of fairplay rattled as the man made an illegal move in order to throw the game. He had been invited here for a real game, a way to show his superiority towards the enemy, and now he was turning it into some sort of dick waving competition. Ugh, Adrienne’s terminology is rubbing off on me.
The blonde stared down at the board a moment, blatantly ignoring his rival. The very thought that he could get away with murder right now was very tempting, but he knew that the repercussions would be disastrous. He couldn’t hope to get away with anything; after the gunshot his partners would be in here to dispose of the body, and when they found it to be the body of their leader rather than his target, there was no doubt that there would be hell to pay for the Innocenzos. At least if it happened on the battlefield, there would be leeway as far as placing blame. This was cold blood.
“Fuck you,” Amel answered, sweeping the pieces of the board onto the floor in a childish show of bad sport before standing up. He grabbed the gun and once again stood close to his fellow capo, shoving the pistol into his throat to choke him and shove him backwards into the wall. No matter how strong you thought you were, having a gun pointed in your face had to be frightening. Unless he simply has no fear. Show me your fear, Aslem.
He cocked the pistol and held replaced the weapon with his hand, his thin fingers curling around the taller man’s throat while he held the gun to his forehead now. “Any last words?” he said menacingly, a bluff, of course. But his fingers still itched to pull the trigger as he put several pounds of weight behind it. Just a little more…
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 31, 2009 12:42:17 GMT -5
Well he was angry, not that that had been terribly hard for the Liberatore capo to predict that reaction. Had he really thought this would be about a chess game and not some test of his mettle? How childish and naive, did he really think Anslem was interested in how well he played a board game? He didn't think he had been trying to lure him out?
You make another mistake like this Allen, with any of the Liberatores that aren't myself, and you'll be dead.
Anslem smirked, he smiled even with a gun to his forehead. Allen had lost his chance to kill him, even someone this inexperienced with actual combat would be aware of this. He was bluffing, he didn't want to kill him. It wasn't because he respected or admired Anslem. He just wanted to be a god damned gentleman about war.
How adorable.
Anslem kicked out to slam his heel into Allen's own balls in a wry reference to the other man's threat to neuter him. In all reality-you probably would have only been doing me a favor if you done that. Still he ducked and slammed the heel of his hand into Allen's wrist to hopefully activate the stimulus to make Allen's hand unclench where he drop the gun into his rival's other waiting hand.
If all went well, Allen be on the floor with Anslem standing over him, holding the pistol to his face.
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 31, 2009 15:13:57 GMT -5
Amel knew that he had acted foolishly, that he was far too frail and weak to hope to stand up against this type of man, but he had let his pride get the best of him once again. After a searing pain had shot through his groin and into his spine, he didn’t even noticed his wrist being pulled as he collapsed to the floor. The back of his head hit the ground hard, forcing him to see even more stars than he had before. His vision was blinding white as he fought to regain his wits.
When he did, however, the barrel of the gun was the first thing that he could see. Amel coughed and turned his head to spit across the floor, his eyes shut tight in pain. His body wasn’t used to being put through this kind of physical strain, especially after not sleeping as long as he had. Even the caffeine and adrenaline coursing through his veins wasn’t enough to help him attempt to get up.
I didn’t even see this. He got me.
“Now what? You kill me?” he challenged, a small laugh escaping him. “Hah…bravo. You built your defense well, Aslem. A true worthy opponent. Good game, good game.” Amel’s head lulled to the side, his neck exposed completely as he conceded defeat. I suppose there are worse ways to die.
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 31, 2009 15:47:44 GMT -5
“Ha…if I wanted to kill you, do you think I would have gone to all this trouble? It would be absolutely superfluous for me to kill you now. I am a practical man; I’ve been too much effort into this to kill you.” He knelt down, the gun still drawn, to straddle Allen’s hips. What a beautiful neck he has. It was a very strange thought to have about someone that had left a dent in your forehead from a barrel of a gun. He didn’t dismiss it however.
“I wanted to see what kind of person you were. The damned board game would have told me only what kind of a thinker you were.” He explained with a shrug, but kept the gun aimed all the same. “Not that I won’t of course if you get any ideas.”
And what sort of idea do you have Anslem? he asked himself, what he was thinking was the sort of thing Beyond would do; capricious, self destructive, and completely selfish. Still he had a point to make, and Allen seemed to be the stubborn type. His neck really was so alluring, strained with harried breath, flushed, and brushed by distraught strands of blond hair. Perhaps it was a mistake to come to this sober.
But damned, if he didn’t want this infuriating little man with an ego larger than his own, who was as intelligent and childish as he was. Perhaps this was just a conqueror taking his prize, the final ego stroke. Or he just wished to see if Allen could be the equal artner he longed for.
The only thing he was certain of was that this was a very bad idea.
He delicately raised Allen’s head up to bring his neck to his lips. He kissed it gently, kneading at the warm skin with his teeth. He put the barrel of the gun beneath the other capo’s chin.
“I suggest you don’t struggle,” he warned with his breath hot in Allen’s ear. Not waiting to see if the other man conceded he tried to catch his lips with his own. He had a good feeling his pride keep him silent.
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Post by Amel Allen on Aug 31, 2009 18:01:52 GMT -5
Amel was happy to hear that his original assumption was correct; this capo didn’t plan on killing him. His plan was far too intricate to end with something as mundane as a hit. He could have killed him on the street if his blood was all he craved, but in the heat of the moment, Amel had actually had a moment where he believed that these breaths would end up being his last. He cracked an eye open and peered up at the German man, doing his best to glare despite the panic still emblazoned across his face. As the man leaned into him, the expression changed from panic to confusion, and then when his lips pressed into his pale skin, it turned back to far more extreme panic. The blonde couldn’t even hope to hide it now.
“W-what….what are you--!” Amel whimpered, trying to squirm away. He’d been told not to struggle, but instinct told him to get away. This man couldn’t possibly be doing what Amel thought he was doing. No, there was no way. This had to be some sort of test of will. When the German man’s lips came up to try and capture his own, he didn’t retaliate, but he also didn’t try to move away; he only sat immobilized until he was certain what Aslem’s true intentions were. His thin body trembled under the weight of the taller man, and he struggled in vain to get himself under control, but the gun pointed at his throat made this impossible.
“Aslem. Please, remove yourself,” he spoke against the other man’s lips, his tone wavering and weak.
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Post by Anslem Aslem on Aug 31, 2009 22:20:38 GMT -5
"Tch," Anslem sighed, pulling back and holstering his gun. For all of his bluffing and mind games he wasn't interested in victimization. He didn't like a struggling partner, being yelled at to 'stop!' trigger him, and he had promised himself he never be a man like the ones who had taken his mother from him. He was a murderer, a monster, but never a base animal.
He sat up and considered Allen's expression. He reached down to cradle the other man's face, his thumb tracing along the ridge of his cheek bone. What strange things you stir in me.
"Henh, I wonder if the reason you're lying so still is because I told you to, or you do really just want someone to fuck you," As if to find out he leaned down to kiss the other man again. Without his gun drawn, Anslem certainly make for a more vulnerable opponent.
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Post by Amel Allen on Sept 1, 2009 10:09:02 GMT -5
Amel couldn’t deny that this close contact was affecting his body in ways that he’d never felt before, never having experienced an intimacy of this magnitude with anyone before that wasn’t Ines. He watched the gun being put away and considered his options. He was still not going to be able to get away, even if he struggled or attempted to pull his own gun. This man was stronger, faster, and would be able to best him in any type of physical altercation, especially in his current state of unrest and dehydration.
The blond shuddered under the feeling of his face being touched, a small whimper involuntarily sounding from his lips. He tried to keep his gaze solid, strong. He refused to be a victim here, and Aslem obviously wasn’t looking to do something as revolting as rape. No, he wanted this to be consensual or else he would have kept the gun out. For what purpose, Amel still wasn’t sure, but it was more than likely having something to do with domination in the face of their ruined game. If he couldn’t beat him there or in a match of wits, more than likely he would be able to make him submit physically.
Well, Amel wasn’t interested in submitting, but he also was willing to be a victim here. If Aslem wanted to play games, he would reciprocate. Ines had told him that he’d been a good lover, so perhaps he could use this to his advantage as well. His heart pumping madly in his chest, he leaned into the kiss and pressed back with more effort, hoping that this sudden change of pace would at least knock the other man off guard.
“Like you said, you don’t play by the rules. I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” he answered, breaking the kiss a moment before once again bringing their lips together. What will you do next, Aslem?
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