(OOC: This is a private role play between me and @Toru set in a grittier take on the universe of Monty Oum's hit animation series RWBY. I hope you enjoy!)
~~~
‘Sparky to Tin Man, come in, Tin Man.’ Archie said, touching his index finger to the wireless communicator in his right ear. Behind pitch-black shades, his eyes scanned the room, analyzing each of the dozens of attendees of the lavish party for suspicious behaviour. From the posh women in long, colourful dresses and the businessmen in 5,000-Lien suits he had nothing to fear; None of them looked like they could fend for themselves in a scuffle, let alone assault his client before Archie had the chance to act. It was the bodyguards that he kept the closest eye on.
Most of the attendees had left their bodyguards behind, putting their trust in the security hired by those who had organized the event- Which was fair enough, considering Archie himself was part of that crew. The handful of bodyguards that did trudge the room, trying to stay as discreet as possible, had been brought by the richest and the most paranoid of guests. It was not impossible, and not unheard of, for a crew of bodyguards to be swapped out for professional killers. Most people who hired guards didn’t bother to remember their faces or their names. Each of the bodyguards was supposed to be unarmed, according to the rules, but Archie didn’t believe for even a second that any of them didn’t carry a knife somewhere on their person.
‘I told you not to use that stupid nickname.’ A deep voice growled in his ear. ‘Call me Salvo.’
Archie cracked a smile. ‘Indulge me for just this night, please. I’m bored off my ass here.’ He glanced at the mountain of a man stood at the opposite wall whom everyone, even the other guards, gave a wide berth. There were many things about Salvo that interested Archie greatly. There was an air of cold-blooded professionalism that clung to his trenchcoat the same way his beige trenchcoat clung to him- The trenchcoat that he had adamantly refused to swap out for the standard bodyguard suit. Between his towering posture and the outfit that looked like the attire of choice for a detective from a cheap paperback novel, the man was certainly hard to miss.
‘If you’re bored, then it doesn’t seem to me you’re doing your job very well.’ Salvo replied. ‘Anything unusual on your side?’ He asked. Archie looked at his client, who was engaged in conversation with a trio of harmless-looking fellow businessmen. ‘The guy in the marine blue suit only smiles with the right side of his face. I think he’s had a stroke.’ Archie pointed out. ‘Also, there’s a blonde woman wearing a red dress on my two o’ clock, with bleary eyes who keeps laughing way too hard at everything; I think she might be on drugs, and frankly, I’m considering joining her in that habit.’ He continued. ‘It would at least make this night a bit more bearable.’
‘I’m talking about security concerns, Weber.’ Archie could hear the irritation in his voice. ‘Oh, in that case, no. Absolutely nothing what-so-fucking-ever.’ He replied. ‘Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.’ Salvo said, and he fell silent.
A few more minutes of silence followed. Nothing transpired. In order to resist the urge to play the old ‘jam a fork into an electrical socket and pretend to be electrocuted’ party joke, Archie pressed his finger to his communicator again. ‘So, how much kit are you carrying under that coat?’ He asked, half expecting not to hear anything back. ‘Enough.’ Salvo replied after a couple of seconds. ‘How much exactly, though?’ Archie insisted. This time, no reply came at all. Archie whistled softly. ‘That much, huh?’ He mused. ‘Hey, Salvo, tell me about your attack plan for me.’
‘What’re you talking about?’ Salvo asked, sounding annoyed. Archie sensed he did not appreciate being distracted from his job, but cared little. ‘Let me tell you about my kit. You’ve seen the two sub-machine guns at my belt. They’re outfitted with white Dust-powered accelerators and loaded with 28mm ammo. Strapped to my legs are two electrical batons with razor-sharp metal prongs, enabling me to club, stab and stun enemies. I come at you, right now, emptying my guns first; If that somehow doesn’t do the job, I get out the pokers, and you… do what?’
Archie left out the fact that he was wearing a bulletproof suit of armor on purpose, and left Salvo in the dark about what his Semblance could do as well. There were a few more seconds of silence as Salvo, face devoid of emotion, focused his gaze entirely on Archie, from his wide smile to his crossed arms and down to his upper legs where his batons and guns were located, to gauge whether he was planning to act on his words or merely hypothesizing. Archie eagerly awaited a reply.
~~~
‘Sparky to Tin Man, come in, Tin Man.’ Archie said, touching his index finger to the wireless communicator in his right ear. Behind pitch-black shades, his eyes scanned the room, analyzing each of the dozens of attendees of the lavish party for suspicious behaviour. From the posh women in long, colourful dresses and the businessmen in 5,000-Lien suits he had nothing to fear; None of them looked like they could fend for themselves in a scuffle, let alone assault his client before Archie had the chance to act. It was the bodyguards that he kept the closest eye on.
Most of the attendees had left their bodyguards behind, putting their trust in the security hired by those who had organized the event- Which was fair enough, considering Archie himself was part of that crew. The handful of bodyguards that did trudge the room, trying to stay as discreet as possible, had been brought by the richest and the most paranoid of guests. It was not impossible, and not unheard of, for a crew of bodyguards to be swapped out for professional killers. Most people who hired guards didn’t bother to remember their faces or their names. Each of the bodyguards was supposed to be unarmed, according to the rules, but Archie didn’t believe for even a second that any of them didn’t carry a knife somewhere on their person.
‘I told you not to use that stupid nickname.’ A deep voice growled in his ear. ‘Call me Salvo.’
Archie cracked a smile. ‘Indulge me for just this night, please. I’m bored off my ass here.’ He glanced at the mountain of a man stood at the opposite wall whom everyone, even the other guards, gave a wide berth. There were many things about Salvo that interested Archie greatly. There was an air of cold-blooded professionalism that clung to his trenchcoat the same way his beige trenchcoat clung to him- The trenchcoat that he had adamantly refused to swap out for the standard bodyguard suit. Between his towering posture and the outfit that looked like the attire of choice for a detective from a cheap paperback novel, the man was certainly hard to miss.
‘If you’re bored, then it doesn’t seem to me you’re doing your job very well.’ Salvo replied. ‘Anything unusual on your side?’ He asked. Archie looked at his client, who was engaged in conversation with a trio of harmless-looking fellow businessmen. ‘The guy in the marine blue suit only smiles with the right side of his face. I think he’s had a stroke.’ Archie pointed out. ‘Also, there’s a blonde woman wearing a red dress on my two o’ clock, with bleary eyes who keeps laughing way too hard at everything; I think she might be on drugs, and frankly, I’m considering joining her in that habit.’ He continued. ‘It would at least make this night a bit more bearable.’
‘I’m talking about security concerns, Weber.’ Archie could hear the irritation in his voice. ‘Oh, in that case, no. Absolutely nothing what-so-fucking-ever.’ He replied. ‘Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.’ Salvo said, and he fell silent.
A few more minutes of silence followed. Nothing transpired. In order to resist the urge to play the old ‘jam a fork into an electrical socket and pretend to be electrocuted’ party joke, Archie pressed his finger to his communicator again. ‘So, how much kit are you carrying under that coat?’ He asked, half expecting not to hear anything back. ‘Enough.’ Salvo replied after a couple of seconds. ‘How much exactly, though?’ Archie insisted. This time, no reply came at all. Archie whistled softly. ‘That much, huh?’ He mused. ‘Hey, Salvo, tell me about your attack plan for me.’
‘What’re you talking about?’ Salvo asked, sounding annoyed. Archie sensed he did not appreciate being distracted from his job, but cared little. ‘Let me tell you about my kit. You’ve seen the two sub-machine guns at my belt. They’re outfitted with white Dust-powered accelerators and loaded with 28mm ammo. Strapped to my legs are two electrical batons with razor-sharp metal prongs, enabling me to club, stab and stun enemies. I come at you, right now, emptying my guns first; If that somehow doesn’t do the job, I get out the pokers, and you… do what?’
Archie left out the fact that he was wearing a bulletproof suit of armor on purpose, and left Salvo in the dark about what his Semblance could do as well. There were a few more seconds of silence as Salvo, face devoid of emotion, focused his gaze entirely on Archie, from his wide smile to his crossed arms and down to his upper legs where his batons and guns were located, to gauge whether he was planning to act on his words or merely hypothesizing. Archie eagerly awaited a reply.