Tice
One Thousand Club
Luca looked at Kain for a moment with crystalline and in breaking attention. It sounded almost like a joke, convicting his brother over someone else's freedom. Yet, he knew there was hope for himself. Maybe not for Dave, but himself. Kain, too. He had a day to find the man. Another day without rest. Another moment where he challenged his own morals. Ones he broke the night he lost his mother and brother. The blood of a loan shark was on his hands. The man was horrible, sure, but he didn't deserve to die. No one did. Not Dave. Nor Lociato. But neither could enjoy freedom. Kain accepted this. Luca had to. "Last resort...OK. I followed Kenzie for awhile; she's in a vehicle. Bound, by all chances. Brookes put a tracker in her wedding ring and I followed it on his phone. Found a bag with her clothes and the ring. She disappeared. I came here, then. We get Dave, and negotiate her rescue. But not until your leg is good enough to use. Do you know where Dave was headed after the station?"
Kain seemed committed to see this to the end. Beyond Kenzie and himself. Almost enough to take down Dave. But he hesitated, enough to tell Luca. Family bonds were solid, and indicting his brother was trauma enough. [SIZE= 16px]Luca ran a hand over his face, light stubble of dark hair meeting his touch. His eyes were heavy; his limbs leaden. But the fire sparked many years ago was all the vigor he needed. [/SIZE]
[SIZE= 16px]|•|Angelo Varundar|•|[/SIZE]
[SIZE= 16px]Angelo turned from where his victim dropped into the bay, facing Angela. She was ready to run. Or fight. Very few people could tolerate his brooding nature, and yet she stood as a testimony against that idea. But it was unrequited. Something Angelo long understood. Her thanks didn't change his mind on whether or not she was worth it. She was. Worth much more than what Lociato think she's worth in money. He'd look into the orbs of her eyes, then down to the suitcase. Preparation. She was ready to escape for possibly years. Now, he was the doorway in which she could. He felt a slight moment of being used as a pawn, and turned away, pointing to the bulkhead where his victim came from. "The captain will be up there. Name's Reils. He's a dick, so if you get anything from him, remind him that I'm out here. He lost to me in a card game awhile back. There's a cot up there for the first mate, who's sleepin' with the fishes. I'll be right behind you." A bit of the Italian accent his father had so strongly used broke through as he spoke. An omen of days gone. Where he knew little more than the boxing his illicit dad tried to teach him. Knew only the memory of Luca kicking his ass, time and time again. Luca was Arlo's prodigy, not Angelo. He gripped the handle of the 1911 strictly for a moment out of a pause of sudden anger before sliding it into his pocket. What had become of him? Once so cold and merciless, now wooed by a few words and bitter memories? Nonsense. Angela was good company. A rarity in his line of work. Even if she could get him killed.[/SIZE]
Kain seemed committed to see this to the end. Beyond Kenzie and himself. Almost enough to take down Dave. But he hesitated, enough to tell Luca. Family bonds were solid, and indicting his brother was trauma enough. [SIZE= 16px]Luca ran a hand over his face, light stubble of dark hair meeting his touch. His eyes were heavy; his limbs leaden. But the fire sparked many years ago was all the vigor he needed. [/SIZE]
[SIZE= 16px]|•|Angelo Varundar|•|[/SIZE]
[SIZE= 16px]Angelo turned from where his victim dropped into the bay, facing Angela. She was ready to run. Or fight. Very few people could tolerate his brooding nature, and yet she stood as a testimony against that idea. But it was unrequited. Something Angelo long understood. Her thanks didn't change his mind on whether or not she was worth it. She was. Worth much more than what Lociato think she's worth in money. He'd look into the orbs of her eyes, then down to the suitcase. Preparation. She was ready to escape for possibly years. Now, he was the doorway in which she could. He felt a slight moment of being used as a pawn, and turned away, pointing to the bulkhead where his victim came from. "The captain will be up there. Name's Reils. He's a dick, so if you get anything from him, remind him that I'm out here. He lost to me in a card game awhile back. There's a cot up there for the first mate, who's sleepin' with the fishes. I'll be right behind you." A bit of the Italian accent his father had so strongly used broke through as he spoke. An omen of days gone. Where he knew little more than the boxing his illicit dad tried to teach him. Knew only the memory of Luca kicking his ass, time and time again. Luca was Arlo's prodigy, not Angelo. He gripped the handle of the 1911 strictly for a moment out of a pause of sudden anger before sliding it into his pocket. What had become of him? Once so cold and merciless, now wooed by a few words and bitter memories? Nonsense. Angela was good company. A rarity in his line of work. Even if she could get him killed.[/SIZE]