Chain Reactions [Jolly/Sam]

"T-talk dammit," mumbled a cloaked figure looming over what seemed to be a corpse in an alley. Prone before Palm was a man grunting and moaning. The man in question had several broken bones and blood kept escaping past his open lips. Palm albeit a little sicken by the sight was becoming ever so anxious at the lack of information given to her. The problem wasn't him being defiant, her invisible third arm simply did not relent on its assault which escalated to the situation at hand.

No matter how ready she thought she was she still felt sickened. The words she could barely make out were, 'family', 'children', 'stop'. It was easy to take somebody's life, scarily so. Her power just went ballistic on him when he tried attacking her. The half-dead man slowly levitated in the air as a hand imprint could be seen sinking into his skin. In Palm's eyes the semi-transparent hand slowly chocked the life out of the submissive man.

She was not going to say anything naive about 'how it was not her fault'. Or 'how the arm should have stopped to save his life'. Her hands were now stained with the blood of another and it was only just the start. She took off the black mask that covered her face except for her eyes. Disgust was clearly visible from her face, as her mouth frowned and her eyes furrowed at the corpse. Her hand was now merely tossing about some rocks with seemingly child-like glee. It sent a shiver down her spine how something with sentience can have such a child-like innocent at one moment then treat another human being like a cat to a mouse.

"L-let's...go," she mumbled to her invisible friend stopping mid-sentence to stare back into the lifeless eyes of the victim. No more cowardice and ignorance for Palm. She threw that part of her away after her friend saved her from herself. This was the emergence of Slight.

---

"Uhhh....p-please give this to Crimson Scar," Palm finally said after what felt like an eternity of standing in front of the towering guard. Dressed in her 'villain' attire she was currently standing in front of the Fight Club entrance. Even if she called it her villain attire, in reality it was a black, nearly full body skin suit. It covered every portion of her body except her eyes which was then covered by her thick glasses and a hole in the back for her invisible hand. Tossed over her mastermind creation was a black cloak which attracted some attention.

"Mind if I ask why, lass?" Inquired a husky voice as the man's gaze swept up and down her hidden figure.

"I-I'm....his childhood friend," quickly claimed the nervous Palm. If the guard could have seen her face he would have knew she was bluffing. Her eyes were constantly moving refusing to stay on one object and her mouth was molded into that of a frown. She felt her heart skip a beat as the guard took one more look at her before nodding to her request. She felt as if a few years had been shaved off her very lifespan from this one interaction. Palm returned his nod with one of her own, yet her eyes never looked at his face as they only faced the ground.

---

Here Palm was waiting for the infamous Crimson Scar, number one fighter in Fight Club. She was tapping her foot which was both a sign of her impatience and stress. On the letter she set the date, location, and time for them to meet. On the letter it had details remarking how she required to have contact with him or there may be more unforeseen causalities. During the past three weeks Palm had been out for blood or at least that's what it seemed like. The high body count was more so to be blamed on the lack of control for her power but if she could use a fear factor to her advantage then it would have worked out. She knew she was taking a risk and perhaps a huge one at that. But there was nothing to gain for no risk and that's why she was determined to but herself at risk.

Sam strolled down the street with his trade-mark smirk, a slight bounce in his step, and a carry-out bag from the Fireopal in his hand. His face gave away the fact he had received quite a beating recently, but he didn't seem very fazed at all despite having a broken nose and black eye. He pulled out his smartphone and checked the time. Upon seeing how late it was, he realized he was going to be late for... Something. Saying that the letter that he had received from Orlando was "vague" would be an understatement. A date, location, and time. In truth, an uneasy feeling gripped Sam's gut. For the past three weeks, gangers had been dying left and right. No one from his gang, thankfully, at least not yet, mostly rival gangs. But this person addressed him as "Crimson Scar", the name he used in the ring. This name was well known, and if someone wanted to start hitting his family, he'd be the first nail to pound into the coffin.
He ducked down a side alley, taking both a shortcut and better-covered route to the location in question: outside of one of the abandoned warehouses. He peeked his head around the corner and down the street, looking to see what he was going to be dealing with; for a moment he regretted not taking Orlando's offer for a bodyguard, but that regret faded when he saw only one person: A woman, alone, tapping her foot. There was no one else anywhere in sight, and there was very little cover for places to hide. Either this woman was no threat at all and the escort was unnecessary, or she had powers and would make quick work of any guards. Either way, alone was the best bet. Fashionably late at ten minutes past the requested time, he stepped out of the alley and began making his way toward the woman, his shirt unbuttoned at the top showing off several scars on his chest, his expression serious; she wanted to talk to the Crimson Scar, so she meant business. No jokes, no fun. He tucked one hand into the pocket of his worn out jeans, the other casually clutching the carry out bag. She definitely saw him coming, it was impossible not to. He stopped about twenty feet from her and narrowed his eyes at her.
"Nice to see you again, Maribelle." He called to her without emotion. "Haven't seen you since grade school. How've you been?" The greeting was said coldly, more as a statement calling her out for her obvious lie. It's not as though he was actually expecting to meet a childhood friend here; Orlando told him the woman's lie was weak to begin with. He just wanted to make sure that whoever this woman was, she knew he was having no shenanigans.

A full moon illuminated the scene before Palm which made the man's entrance noticeable from a distance. Alone, or perhaps somebody was hiding somewhere. She had no other choice than to be alone but perhaps this was a better option of the two anyway. The man called Crimson Scar was a brown-haired man who approached her casually. It would have eased her mind a bit if it wasn't for the stern look on his face. As he came to a stop she felt his gaze drill into her and shivered ever so slightly underneath the cloak. This was her moment. She was not going to let past traumas stop her from moving forward, not again.

"Nice to see you again, Maribelle." Crimson Scar said, no emotion detectable past the cold, hard surface of his voice. His cold voice only made matters worse as she would have preferred sarcasm or the like. But this only reminded her of the seriousness of the situation. Being called out to an unknown location by an unknown person when murders have spiked up around town, it tasted of suspicion. "Haven't seen you since grade school. How've you been?" At least he made it clear about knowing her lie, which she hadn't put much trust in to begin with. All she needed to do was lure him out and talk to him.

"I've been...um, doing great," the words just seemed to flow from her mouth as she felt her back sink. She was flattering again and she couldn't show any weakness. With a shake of her head, she stared down the man twenty feet away from her. The cloak's hood masked her face which Palm was somewhat glad for.

"Y-you know I heard you were the..um, greatest, no wait, strongest fighter in Fight Club, isn't that pretty amazing?" She asked her voice audibly tense and receding. She clawed the top of her cloak out of visible irritation. She was making an ass of herself in front of a potential partner no less. Flattery was not working so she had to switch gears and straight line into business.

"Ignore....that, let's get down to our business." She said sound more calm and composed than her previous two remarks.

"I want you, Crimson Scar, to assist me. As you....should know there have been a few accidents going around.To stop these 'accidents' from happening again I want your help. You should know the ins and outs of the underworld so I expect you to have some connections. Let me work with you, I don't care if you assign me the shittiest line of work just..." she stopped herself as her voice edged from composed to desperate.

"If you give me this favor I will surely return it with interest. However if you deny me..." she let her voice roll on letting the possible outcomes of his choice roll through his mind. Palm was bluffing to the point where she doubted it would work out her way. Underneath her cloth she was fidgeting and she could only help that he was more worried about the threat she opposed than her suspicious as fuck...everything. But even if he denied her he couldn't hurt him or his friends. She didn't have the exact means to get concrete personal information on him.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the woman at first; was she really so stupid as to try and roll with the "childhood friend" line? He continued to keep his gaze fixed on her, stone cold, as she proposed her plan to him. He knew a great deal about the "accidents", or what was better to refer to as "human tenderizings", as he had stumbled across one of them on his way to Ruby Central a week and a half ago, and was keeping tabs on them ever since. He cracked his neck, the popping audible to her even from this distance. "Before I agree or disagree to anything, I want to make sure I have a few things perfectly clear..." He took a step towards her, audibly planting his foot, an aggressive gesture. "And cut the bullcrap. We're adults here, and we both have dirty hands, so no beating around the bush. From where I'm standing, it sounds like you've been behind the recent string of deaths in my home town. It also sounds like you want to propose a deal to me. You want access to my gang, my contacts, my information." His tone was flat, but not hostile. It was more like a business man wanting to have facts straight. "I'm going to ignore the blatant threat, which is a kind gesture on my part." He stated this confidently, not sure if the threat was a bluff or not; either way, making it seem like it was something to be forgiven would put him in a position of power over her, if only mentally.
He doesn't wait for the woman to respond. "Or is slaughtering our rivals your way of getting our attention for trying to get initiated? Either way, you have my attention, but what you're asking is a bit... Much. Access to my contacts? Want to work alongside me? I'm afraid that's a bit hard to make happen for a childhood friend of mine. But you?" He gestures to the hooded woman, visibly eyeing her up and down. "I don't even know who the hell you are except Ruby City's version of Jack the Ripper. More of Maribelle the Ripper, I guess." He folds his arms over his chest, the carryout bag dangling loosely over his left wrist. His face softens slightly, no longer the hard, cold look of a man staking his claim, but a businessman who would hear out a deal.

Palm had some vague expectation that he would accept her offer but she only has her stupid naive self to believe that such a man would make a move. With his neck crack and aggressive move Palm glanced behind her to see her semi-transparent arm standing at attention. Palm was more concerned about her arm killing a potential partner but from the looks of things everything was turning south. After the man's speech Palm was...stunned. He disregarded her empty threat with utter confidence. This gave her a scare since this meant that he and his gang were confident in their strength. She clicked her tongue underneath her guise as she realized that this would be extremely difficult. Palm took notice of Crimson Shade's calm, collected look. It was much less stress inducing than his stern look which gave Palm some ease of mind that she was getting somewhere.

"Couldn't...couldn't I be beneficial to you though? I have been getting rid of these....nuisances for you and your gang, right? If you want to keep me at arm distance that's fine, but I have a question. Wouldn't rival gangs stay further away if they knew you had the supposed...'Maribelle the Ripper' or 'Jack the Ripper', whatever. As you can tell I put my neck out there just to garner your attention I hope you can see my determination to work with you from that alone." Palm said in a composed tone. She had either fucked up or found something out. Since Crimson Shade's gang had rivals that meant that they weren't huge enough completely dominant the area. That also could mean that the rival gang was equally as terrifying strong and she had made some horrible enemies. However, she was fairly confident that the crime couldn't be traced back to her due to the lack of evidence.

But she was making progress, she hadn't known that her victims were rivals of Crimson Shade's gang. She could work off this and she prayed that she hadn't killed any of his comrades. Crimson Shade compared her to Jack the Ripper which must mean that word of her killings have been spreading around East Diamond. Despite it being the first time she actually negotiated something she could do this.

"It doesn't have to be you taking me to your gang hideout and introducing me like a new family member. You have seen my....handiwork, and all I need is a chance. I go out and decrease your rivals furthering the livelihood of you and your 'contacts'. It seems like a great deal doesn't it? Me risking my neck for little gains while you can sit back and watch." Unlike before, Palm's voice was unwavering and determined. She wanted Crimson Shade to know that she was willing to kill others just to get a few brownie points. Of course she was going out on a limb but she needed a chance to prove herself. If she needed to stain her hands with a thousand people so be it.

Sam narrowed his eyes, not with aggression, but more with curiosity. "So Maribelle the Ripper... Wants to kill people at our behest in exchange for information, and access to my contacts." His trademark wolfgrin crept across his face. "That seems like a mighty beneficial bargain for me, mighty short stick for you. This isn't my first time around the block, this means either there's small print I'm not seeing, or these contacts mean a whole HELL of a lot to you." He adjusts his jaw with his hand; in this dim light, his black eye and broken nose are fairly easy to see. "But this is a veeeeerry tempting offer... You've got me interested, well-baited hook, but I'm gonna have to ask just a few more questions here." He uncrosses his arms and takes up his more relaxed posture, leaning on his right leg, one thumb tucked through a belt loop, the other lazily holding his food. "Who are you, and what about me and my contacts is so appealing you're willing to butcher people at my beck and call?"
He put emphasis on the fact it would be his beck and call; he knew full well if he made such a bold deal like this, his superiors would saddle him with being the messenger boy to East Diamond's Ripper; they wouldn't risk anyone else with this, it's always "the moron who preemptively seals the deal" who gets the fun job, so he was going to be spending a lot of time with her should she convince him. He needed to assert himself as top dog over her; he had no idea what her power was, but it was obvious she had one; no normal human could turn a man to pulp like the one he found. He had to make it plain he was in charge lest she decide he was an expendable pawn.
"Why is it we carry so much weight with you? Why not go big, get the attention of the East Diamond Mafia? They have more contacts, more resources, more men." He relaxed a bit more with her, his battered face managing a curious smile showing he was open to input, that he wanted the deal, but it was too good to believe at face value. "And, please, don't bullshit me with flattery. We know we're strong and have the run of a lot of these streets. We also know the EDM is stronger and could squish us like a bug for a laugh."

Palm stood there like a deer in headlights, too stunned to even say a word. Crimson Scar was considering her offer and it seemed like he accepted it. Underneath the mask Palm had a bright smile on her face, a smile that has rarely seen the light of day. Now that Palm had essentially set up the arrangement she had to come clean. The question was where she should begin. Eyeing her soon to be partner once again, Palm took notice of the black eye and broken nose. Was he not all that he cracked up to be or perhaps that was a testament to their rival's strength? Either way it certainly got Palm nerves shot up again, if that was even possible at this point. Palm removed the black cloak and pulled down the parts of her suit covering her face. To Crimson Scar she should look like a normal high school girl; albeit a bookworm one. But that was all in the past and she knew it.

"I'm....Palm....Perdu." She said nervousness obvious from her tone and stiff posture. Then a fleeting thought past her mind that Crimson Scar could think that she was lying due to her nervous attitude and that would make all her work for naught. With a slight shake of her head she once again mustered her determination as her brown eyes locked with Crimson Scar's own.

"I was...desperate, extremely desperate. I didn't mean to kill them but...some stuff happened and when I finally got some information about who I should go looking for it turned out to be you. I...I didn't even know it was your rivals until you mentioned it so I sorta just rolled with it. I just need a start and I am willing to....slaughter anybody to get that chance." Palm didn't mention why she was looking to get involved in the underground but if Crimson Scar knew about the whole 'Nundo and Juvena incident' which happened two or so months ago then he could easily guess why she was here. Even if he didn't know of the incident he could read between the lines of why a desperate fresh-faced highschooler would be looking to get into the underground.

"Um, so.....uh, Mister Crimson Scar is there anything else you need to know and how should we contact each other?" Palm asked her voice failing to contain her excitement now that the stressing speech was over. Crimson Scar could pick up the wrong message and think that Palm was excited about killing others, however she was simply joyous that she was one step closer to her goal.

Sam took a slight step back and raised an eyebrow; this was a significant about-face to what he was expecting. "So you were just going around trying to get information on how to get started out here, and things got out of hand... And it was sheer dumb luck that you didn't destroy my brothers?" The curiosity in his tone tapered off back into grim seriousness. There is a long, heavy silence in the air as he weighs his options.
The girl - Palm Perdu, she called herself - was insane. She seemed not only willing, but eager to destroy people just to get a start in... Something. What, he didn't know, and to be frank, he didn't want to know, but he did know one thing: This deal was weighted so much in his favor because she enjoyed bloodshed. That sort of tool is a dangerous thing to leave unattended. If he denied her what she wanted, the next body to be found would be his, crumpled and mushed in front of this abandoned warehouse.
Not only was she crazy, but she was also powerful. Killing so many gangers in such a short time was an impressive feat; if for no other reason, allying with her would give Sam insight as to how these powers worked, and how he could hone his own. If worse came to worst, he'd have the ability to put her down should the time come.
Having her around would pose massive problems however; if people learned that she was working for them, then that would be a lot of unwanted attention from a lot of unwanted people; the mafia, the authorities, maybe even SAFE if they heard a beefed-up super was running around murdering gangers for a laugh. Not to mention the day she snapped and decided to go rouge... Sam pushed the thought out of his mind.
"I'll tell you what, Maribelle." Sam finally said after a long silence; he deliberately avoided using her name, hoping that if he continued referring to her in this fashion, it would create some sort of mental link, perhaps ownership, to the gang. He didn't know how the minds of crazed psychopaths worked, he was just trying to keep her under his thumb. "I like your offer. I do. You gimme a number I can reach you at, and I'll talk to my superiors. We could always use a hitman who we pay in info instead of cash. I'll call you back once they give me an official answer. Until then, lay low and keep outta sight. You've drawn a lot of attention to yourself recently, which is not a good thing in East Diamond." He walked closer to Palm and pulled out his phone, ready to input her number. "And, uh, just remember..." He looked up from his phone and locked his eyes with the girl. "You lay a finger on one of my brothers or sisters, and I will personally hunt you down and make you wish I did to you what you did to your other victims. You understand me?"

"So you were just going around trying to get information on how to get started out here, and things got out of hand... And it was sheer dumb luck that you didn't destroy my brothers?" One statement was enough to get Palm's blood running cold again. Her expression turned sour as her lips that still showed a faint forming of a smile quickly turned into a frown. Shit, her big mouth may have costed her a deal something that she could not let slip by. The atmosphere was tense as Crimson Scar was in deep thought. She prayed to fate or whatever cruel gods were watching that he did not withdraw his offer.

After what felt like an eternity Crimson Scar finally spoke asking Palm for her phone number. Palm was so relieved that she paid no heed to the pet name he made for her. As Crimson Scar approached closer Palm glanced back to see her arm lazing swaying about. Palm barely forced down a smile as Crimson Scar waited to put in her number. She could celebrate all she wanted when she got home, right now it was still busy. His warning interrupted the short moment of happiness Palm was experiencing and made her tense again.

"Of...of course Mister Crimson Scar," Palm said after shrinking away from his gaze. After giving him her cellphone number she once again donned her disguise. She gave Crimson Scar a farewell as she turned into an alley. After all the stress, mental anguish, quick thinking, and momentary fleeting feelings of happiness, she finally had her first contact. All she had to do was wait for Crimson Scar to give her a call containing the exact details of her deal.

Sam watched as Palm ran off into the night. He hadn't noticed it until he got close enough to ask for her number, but the girl couldn't possibly have been more than eighteen years old. Barely an adult and getting her hands this dirty... It made Sam uneasy. It was too late to second guess his decisions now; he made his bed, now he had to lay in it.
By the time he got back home, the crab rangoon had gone, much to his dismay. He threw it in the trash on the way to go and speak with the leader of his group, a large, hairy man everyone simply called "Father". Sam explained the situation to him, and was surprised as to how open Father was to accepting the help of the a murderous psychopath. As expected, all interactions with her were placed on Sam, but he wasn't too surprised. On the bright side, he'd be able to press her for more answers on honing his powers... Either way, Father was quick to offer a job to the girl: He wanted her to take down a man named Dominic, a drug dealer and primary bread winner for a local gang who had been peddling in their territory. Sam decided that he was far too tired to call Palm right away after the day he had, so he went to bed and made a note to call her in the morning.

The next day, at about eight thirty, he sat on the side of his bed, phone pressed to his ear. The phone rang, but there was no answer. When it went to voicemail, he left his message; paranoid as to who may be listening, or even that she gave him a false number to frame him, he decided it was best to try and leave the message in a code. "Hello, Maribelle. Father was gracious enough to accept your application you submitted last night. He was very excited to hear that you would be willing to become a part of Perdu Daycare, and thinks you should start work right away. There's been a troubled child we've been too understaffed to look after named Dominic. He lives about three blocks south of where we met to discuss your application last night. If you can help keep an eye on Dominic and take care of him within the week, Father would be most happy with you. Thank you much, Maribelle." He hung up, hoping the message was clear enough for her. Either way, he'd know within a week. Now all he could do is wait...