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 James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1

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big boy soup



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PostSubject: James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1   Mon Jun 27, 2016 4:43 pm

James Kane: The Dirty Angel



James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1

London, England

January 2007



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big boy soup



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PostSubject: Re: James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1   Mon Jun 27, 2016 8:17 pm



James Kane

January 19th, 2007

1:37 PM





The light flickered awake, after the switch was flipped up. The light revealed a bloodied, battered man. Hs head was hung well low, thus implying he was asleep while the lights were off in the room. He just barely managed to blink his eyes awake, when a figure dressed much something like an urban guerilla, with his black balaclava, combat sweatshirt, gloves, and multi-camouflage fatigues, had entered the room with grievous intent for the man.  The paramilitary-looking individual that had entered the room was wearing boots with the guerrilla get-up too, but they were covered by two plastic-looking wrappings for each boot. They looked like something out of a forensics office, no doubt.

The masked individual stared at the tired, beaten, battered man for a good while to assure himself he was awake. Before the masked man could inquire a question, the tied-up individual spoke-

"Hey, how long are you going to keep up this game, 'eh?", inquired the drowsy, tied-up man.

"As long as I need to." spoke the masked individual, in a monotone tone of voice.

"The game you can't win? There won't be a damn thing I'm going to tell you, mate.", shot back the victimized man, with great wit for someone who had clearly been interrogated nights beforehand.

"We will see.", replied the masked man.

The details don't need to be described. It was a bloody, thorough interrogation. From the deepest, darkest corners of the masked man's mind, he unleashed onto the tied-up man to fulfill the interrogation. Had it been anyone else, they would've broken-- But, he didn't. It was if he wasn't surprised with anything the masked man tried to perform on him, and despite interrogation victims of the past, and their decaying mental states over the course of the interrogation, there seemed to be no effect of decay on the tied-up man.

In spite of his torture, the tied-up man coughed up a bit of blood onto the table mixed in with his spit, "Are we done here yet?", inquired the tied-up, even more bloody man.

"..."

The masked man did not reply, and instead, solemnly glanced down at his watch, and walked out of the interrogation room without another word.







"FUCK!"






The deflamatory term echoed throughout the concrete hallways, and shortly later, the slur was followed by the sound of a table being flipped over in rage. At the end of the hallway, a well-dressed man appeared out from the end of the hallway with an inquisitive expression. He confronted the angry, masked individual in the hallway-

"...And?", asked the sharply-dressed gentlemen.

"No Joy. Tommorow.", replied the masked-individual in defeat.

"It has to be today.", solemnly replied the well-dressed man.

"I've tried everything. He just won't break.", snapped-back the masked man.

The gentleman did not reply afterwards. Instead, he waited for the masked individual to follow up, as he unmasked himself to reveal a pair of light-brown eyes and blonde hair-

"Look into my eyes! I've tried everything! Get someone else!", shouted the blonde-haired Brit.

"That's not an option, John. It has to be today.", shot back the gentleman, with cool, decisive authority in his tone of voice.

"Then, what? Fuck you.", insulted 'John'-  "If you've got a manual on how to break a bloke that can't be broke, then now would be the time to share."


The gentlemen frustratedly wiped his face with the palm of his hand. Though, this was more likely to address the sweat running down his forehead from stress over a certain matter. Though, in comparison, both men appear to be stressed in equal measure-

"This is a disaster, John. We can't afford to keep him here."

"What do you want me to do, exactly?"

The sharply-dressed gentleman paused for a moment. and slowly, a grim-faced turned to become his facial expression-

"Kill him."
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PostSubject: Re: James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1   Tue Jun 28, 2016 6:54 pm


James Kane

January 19th, 2007

10:02 PM






The well-dressed gentleman shoved a silenced, Standard-Issue Springfield Armory M1911 into the chest of 'John'. 'John' sloppily caressed the short-recoil operated firearm with both hands, after it had been shoved into his chest. No doubt, the silencer was to compensate for the concrete structure of the building they were in.

"Hop to it.", commanded the gentleman-

'John' didn't reply. Instead, he gave him a look, before turning his back to the gentleman, as he then marched back down the hallway to the interrogation room with the silenced M1911 down by his side.


It was hardly a fair fight.


Just as 'John' had moved to the end of the hall; the interrogation room. The hard-wooden door was forced off the hinges, and with great strength to do so. Correspondingly, John', had first been smashed directly in the nose, as a result of the hard wood colliding with it. The sound of crackling cartilige became a commonality, in a moment's notice. To make matters worst for 'John', the flying hard-wooden door had sent him across the opposite side of the hallway. Not down it all the way, but horizontally speaking it did. Slowly, 'John' had slumped down against the concrete surface, with the hard wood of the door pressed against his body to prevent him from effectively rising.

No doubt, the building they had been in was an old one. As the door had collided with the wall and 'John', splinters broke off from the door to form a woody, smokey cloud of dust. As a result of the elderly age of the building, the fire alarm had been triggered, and sprinklers over head began to rain hard water down below. To elaborate, the gentleman was just barely out of the hallway, before the sudden smashing sound had hit his sense of hearing, and was met with sprinklers overhead.

The cat was out of the bag. The gentleman had turned around to see what the massive commotion was at the end of the hall. Just then, he saw the man that was once tied-up, walk out into the hallway from the interrogation room. Bloody as ever, he turned face to stare down the gentleman at the end of the hallway. The gentleman couldn't help but give the bloodied man a a fearful gaze, as soon as their eyes met from across the hallway.

"James, wait! I can explain!", exclaimed the cowering Gentleman from across the hallway. He could not help, but to raise his hands, and slowly back away from James.

But, in that instance, James did not speak. His chin was down, and there was no smiling or happiness involved with the deadly stare he gave him from across the hall. Slowly, he walked down the hallway. Seemingly, with the intent to physically harm the gentleman at the end of the hallway.

"Listen to reason, damn you! You didn't give me a choice!", exclaimed the Gentleman, once again with increasing frailty in his voice.

However, it was also similar in the aspect that it was to no avail. James had continued to walk down the hallway. Just then, the silenced M1911 that had just about been knocked out of John's hand, had risen into the air on it's own. As it rose, it lured closer to James' hand, as he was now practically fast-walking down the hallway to meet the gentleman, face-to-face.

"Come on, James! You know our ethic in The 'Yard, we don't operate like this! We were partners!", exclaimed the Gentleman, one last time.

"But, you did anyway. Bastard.", said James finally, and quite decisively too.

"But, that's how it had to be, don't you see!? You couldn't stop prying; you didn't give me a choice!", insisted the Gentleman.

James didn't reply. Simply, he continued to march down the hallway, with the Springfield M1911 in hand. The gentleman attempted to run back down the hallway, but it was to no avail. His legs were pulled out from under him, seemingly by a paranormal force, and certainly no less! The gentleman could only yell for help, as he was dragged across the concrete by a paranormal force, and to his demented fellow detective who was half-way across the hallway. Eventually, he was face-to-face with the man he had betrayed. The man who was once his partner.

"Detective David Crowley- You have been sentenced to death. Any last words?", inquired James.

"James-", stammered the well-dressed gentleman, now revealed to be Detective David Crowley.

"Denied.", interrupted James.

Detective James Crowley was dead, at the age of 27. An entire clip of .45 calibur rounds had been entered into his chest, from the pleasure of Detective Sergeant James Kane. With his senses barely still about him, his nose picked up two last stenches before he effectively passed away. One, the stench of gasoline. Second, the scent of his own burning flesh.



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PostSubject: Re: James Kane: The Dirty Angel #1   Today at 3:56 pm

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