justwantsafety: (being serious)
[personal profile] justwantsafety
((OOC note: it's all from his point of view, so there's not a lot of Harley himself to be seen. Picture this as being some sort of FPS game or something, and you get the idea -- hands, business end of the weapon, and whatever else happens to come into view will be described. ♥))

The area was dark and rocky. It was overcast, the sky a dingy yellowish brown, allowing only weak illumination at best. Most of it came from the lamps which were here and there, old street lights struggling to pretend they were decently operational, a fluorescent light which flickered badly from the upstairs room of an abandoned building, someone's flashlight, sweeping one way and another as they looked about.

Harley pressed something on his weapon -- a rifle of some sort, it looked like, perhaps? Certainly not standard military issue -- with a left hand which was curiously missing the black Atma mark it now bore, and brought the gun up to his shoulder, to peer through the scope.

They were in the alley across from him, as he pressed himself mostly flat in an empty, closed doorway in the darkness. He felt himself smile, brought his other hand up to adjust a headset, twisting the microphone back up to where it would pick up his words, quiet as they were.

"Hello down there."

He watched as the other figure's light swept up quickly, checking the empty balconies above it, the man turning and raising his gun after the light, expecting to find a target. Harley pulled the trigger a few times, watching with satisfaction as the impacts each exploded in liquid color across the man's backside, flinging droplets across his gray jacket and the sides of the building next to him, dripping down to the pavement below. He ducked out of the little alleyway and ran across the street, away from the scene, looking for another place to hide even as he heard footsteps in the building he was approaching. Through the window, there was a glimpse of someone wearing black -- a long-sleeved, hooded covering, eyes hidden under goggles -- and he hurried past the doorway, and around the back of the building, before they could catch him, pausing to catch his breath.

"You jackass!" The voice that came from the headset was amused, frustrated, laughing quietly behind the accusation. "I should've known better than that."

"Yeah," Harley agreed, holding up the microphone again to reply quietly as he barely managed not to laugh as well. "You should've."

He glanced beside him to the doorway he'd stepped into, where a streetlight shone on the door enough to show him the most blurry of reflections on its battered, rusted old surface. His arm, covered here by a thick, dark blue coat sleeve, was as covered as the rest of him, with little spots of bright colors, hot pink and a vivid violet, and neon yellow and orange.

The shots he'd fired, as the mental image came back to him, he somehow knew not to have been red blood, but a bright green hue.


Harley stretched out where he'd been curled up under the blankets, bright orange hair more of a mess than it usually was. What started off as a warm smile faded to a confused look as he realized.... he wasn't actually sure what the heck that was about.

After rubbing his eyes and sitting up a bit more -- looks like he's taken off his gray uniform, leaving him in just in his black undershirt and shorts, to sleep -- he finally finds that the little Dreamberry's on, and reaches over to kill its connection.
From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Profile

justwantsafety: (Default)
Harley, Leader of the Vanguards

April 2015

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
26272829 30  

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 26th, 2017 08:28 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios