The streets of Omega were filthy enough, it did not help that the typical criminal scumbag would use these paths as their main route through this dreaded ward. At every corner, there was someone willing to sell their body for the sake of money, just so they could eat that night. The only thing dirtier and more dangerous were the alley ways between the buildings, which were often occupied by thugs and numerous other times of the typical baddy. One would think that one person would be out there, willing to make a difference by taking justice into his own hand, to spread retribution for his reward which would be redemption. Simon however, is sadly not one of those individuals.

He was the opposite actually, far from anyone admirable. One of the few times he tried to be an honourable person was when he signed up for the Alliance, only to go AWOL whenever he was needed. It was not that Simon was a coward, he was just looking for whatever seemed to be the most fun. Omega was a lawless place, someone who lived without restriction and boundary would surely prosper here. It was not that case for Simon, in fact he was rather depressed the first time he came here. For the longest time, it seemed like he would just live off the streets for the rest of his life. That much was true, but he did not mind once he found his new profession.

The bum walked into the bar like he owned the place. He walked with a cocky strut that would warrant a beat down anywhere else. Inside the bar were his most trusted contractors, as they were also his only ones. They were all low life scum who spent the money they begged for on alcohol, Simon was different in that aspect as he spent most of his money on weapons. Some of his friends would mug someone just to get enough credits to pay Skully for a job. Even the homeless had enemies it seemed. Then again, the streets were their territory. Other people had their own apartments or complexes, these street dwellers had the entire ward. Anything that was not closed off inside walls was theirs and they had rightfully earned it, everyone else were the trespassers.

"Aye, ya gonna toss me a drink or am I gonna have to go to the packie?" Simon blurted out as he sat down at his favoured stool, pushing off a sleeping drunk just to get to it again. With his bloodstained sleeve, he wiped off the drool from the counter and only made it worse by leaving a red smudge across it. As the bartender approached, Simon quickly leaned onto the counter to cover up the small mess he made. The barman knew this hitman well, as both a client and a friend. He came to him with a small class of Serrice Ice Brandy.

The masked crusader eagerly pulled down his facial garb, revealing an eager smile to the bartender as he quickly put his lips to the glass. With a quick motion, he let his head lean back and quickly drank the contents. "Tastes like shit, as it always does Mike, you smeghead." It was common for Simon to insult even his close acquaintances, it was the best way for him to show he was sober. When drunk, Skully had a reputation of being obnoxious by being overly friendly, even to absolute strangers. It was this that caused several fights and even a stabbing on his part, but such was life on Omega. Where the young die fast and the rich are the ones to kill them.

"Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can. One of these days, someone is going to come looking for your head." The barman taunted. His masked friend was a wanker, but he worried for him. One can not go around shooting and bashing in heads with a bat unnoticed, eventually Skully would find an adversary willing to be just as brutal if not more. The bartender made a smirk so hard it hurt his face, pouring Simon another glass, he quickly put the bottle itself on stand by. The young bum would surely just drink and repeat without even rinsing. No point in placing his favourite beverage under the counter when he will just wave for some more in a matter of seconds.

Simon stared at his empty glass for a moment. With his senses filled with the smell of blood and now the enticing nature of alcohol, he wondered why he had not received another pour. As the ice brandy once again filled his cup, he seemed please but still persisted with his attitude. "Bugger that! No sodding way!" He jokingly showed his anger, only to pat the bartender on the shoulder. Simon even stood up to do so, it was such a strange gesture that could only hint to one thing: he was already buzzed. He must have stocked up on some 'liquid courage' before he bashed some poor man's head in with a bat. The bloody end of the swinging instrument stuck out of Simon's backpack, almost as if it was a warning. Although, for someone tracking him, it was more like a sign reading 'shoot this bloody idiot'. A smart criminal would have thrown the bat away or at least given it to someone stupid enough to accept it.

As of late, the life of Colin Skelter had started to move gradually towards better. Not that it would be all that grand as of yet, seeing that he would be struck on shithole like Omega till unforeseeable future, but he had quickly learned that merely remaining breathing and unmaimed was quite an achievement in enviroment he now found himself in. Even though he had sworn to himself he would become the very best assassin in the galaxy, such ambitions would mean little if he would be naive enough about the harsh realities of the station to get a knife in his eye when he let his guard down. Thankfully however such a thing had not happened yet, and he had even managed to get himself an apartment, job (if one could call it such), and some credits. Still, even if things were looking up for him, Colin never turned his attention from his primary goal: adding new weapons to his collection and increasing his reputation as an assassin.

And now it seemed that he would have his chance to do just that. Since no communication had followed from his new employer as of yet, Colin had done some snooping around, his innocent looks and tendecy to last surprisingly long in drinking games providing to be quite boons in information gathering front. After a while, he had procured a name of another aspiring assassin who was trying to work his way up the ladder on Omega just like he himself was: Simon Ripley Scully, also charmingly known as "Skully the Ripper". Although the man was not really as high up the ranks in the ladder of assassins as Colin would have liked for his enemy to be, it seemed that he was at least competent and beginning to gather bit of fame about himself too. This fight would be good practice for the trials yet ahead of him, and getting rid of competition was all well and good when he himself was still relatively unknown figure in the assassin circles.

So, Colin had prepared, taking with him just the tools of the trade he was at least somewhat competent with and leaving the trophies from two hitmen he had already killed during his short carreer behind, one shelf in the hastily fixed shelf in his new apartment being reserved just for weapons he would be picking up. After he had made shaky peace with the landlord and moved in, Colin had revamped the apartment somewhat, most of the dead salarian's stuff being thrown out or sold since he did not have much use for it. Now, holo-posters decorated the walls, quite extensive collection of Doctor Mexta collectibles and other quite odd hobby-related items were stacked on the shelves, and steamlined guitar stood in middle of the living space, right next to armchair that he usually lazed off in. If one would miss the weapons, it looked like quite typical apartment of a loser, but Colin enjoyed himself in such enviroment.

His revolver and saws hidden from sight by his long trenchcoat, Colin had gone for quite casual look in this particular instance. Sport shoes, black jeans and light pink t-shirt spelling out name of one of his favourite animated shows of all time made up the look with his omnipresent black longcoat and lenghty scarf. For last touch, he took with him pair of cheap holo-glasses, the glowing orange "lenses" keeping his eyes hidden. Thus prepared, he strode confidently out of the door, beginning to skip down the stairs... and fell over upon reaching the last one, hitting the floor and managing to look quite ridiculous. Getting up with some swearing, the young human shook his head, beginning to head towards the bar he had heard the assassin he was looking for frequented. This was not starting quite as well as he would have liked.

After a while of searching and avoiding possible mugging by brandishing his revolver once at back-alley gang who were apparently looking for fresh victims to relieve of their credits, Colin found himself in front of the doors of the bar he had been looking for. Was he really, really ready for this? Well, he had gone too far to pussy out now, and besides, he had managed to survive this far. Small, flippant grin reaching his mouth, the young man strode in, ready to face the one he had been seeking for a bit now.

Inside, the establishment was shady and not all that hygienic, but bearable enough to be half-full already. As Colin walked in, several pairs of curious eyes looked at the newcomer, and some chuckling and snickering followed, apparently due to his choice for wardrobe: more or less everyone else seemed to be wearing rather more practical and worn clothing that was quite a bit more utilitarian than his own garb. Clenching his gloved hands into fists, the young assassin decided to simply ignore the idiots and walked on, his gaze circling around the bar until it settled on the man matching the description of the other assassin. Stopping, Colin let his hands fall on his sides, relaxed, and began to speak in somewhat cocky voice. "You Simon Scully?" he asked, some of the people in backround stopping their chuckling to listen at the amusing and apparently rather naive newcomer. "I heard that you are a relatively good hitter. That true?"

The men in the bar seemed to take the assassin less than seriously. Not like they had much room to make fun, considering they were mostly poor drunks who had very unpleasant clothing in general and that was not just a matter of perception or taste. Some of these guys had ugly faces to match the garb they are forced to wear to keep themselves warm and somewhat protected. Even then, they had alcohol to give the illusions of both. The young man had entered the hide out of some very low-priority individuals. By far the only dangerous person that visited frequently was Simon, who mostly entered for the discount on drinks as the bartender had to still pay him back for the job he did for him.

"If you were a Turian, I would call you a bare face!" A very drunk Batarian called out, the sound of a glass breaking made everyone flinch. The cracking sound as the cup fell to the floor not only startled everyone, but also woke the sleeping alcoholics who had their heads rested ever so casually on the counters and tables. It was obvious that if it were not for the inconveniently loud crash, everyone would have praised the Batarian for his 'bold words of honour'. For a mostly human dominate bar, it seemed quiet open to anyone who was not Colin it seemed. Until then, they would definitely give the alien in the corner some shit before they put their words back to the stranger.

One human stood up from his seat at the table and was ready to raise his voice if needed. A scruffy looking young man, probably had lived on the streets since he was merely a child, his voice was nuked by the combination of alcohol and whatever the kids smoked nowadays. His appearance was easily of a younger adult, but the voice sounded like that of a battle hardened veteran. Of course this was not the case and merely the boy was simply the average tosser who drank their lives away here. "How about I pull out both sets of your eyes!" He verbally jousted the Batarian.

Before a reply could come between the two, Simon had more than enough listening to them. Eventually, the argument would become the equivalent of two babies crying over a toy. Skully had a decent enough reputation to not only uphold the bar's standards, rules and regulation but also to intimidate any of the idiots there. He was one of the few in this part of the ward who had the balls to kill and enjoy it. "Both fo you ninnies need to stop before someone teaches ya good lesson!" The young hitman barked, his mask lazily covering his mouth. He quickly returned to his drink and pulled down the cloth to allow his beverage to pass his lips once again. After a quick swig, he slammed the class down on the counter, a blatant sign of his to show he was ready for even more. "I am tellin' ya man, these chavs got nothin' on me!" To those who over heard, the brief sound of clapping entered the bar as the friendly neighborhood killer took a hard swig.

Smiles and joking among the small crowd quickly diminished and disappeared. Someone had confronted their local hero, it was someone who looked more and more intimidating the longer they started at him. The couple of assassins seemed to share a moment of silence. Simon leaned back and even tilted his stool, not the brightest idea but he somehow managed to do so without falling over. He placed his gloved hand on the counter, his fingers tapped erratically in his anxiety. It appeared he was either incredibly nervous or really aggravated. Simon stared over his shoulder a few times to Colin, only to return to his own gloved hand which switched between an open palm and balled fist.

Finally he turned around to confront the assassin, his cocky attitude was enough to make Simon respond. With his left arm casually leaning against the counter of the bar, Skully seemed to fall back toward the only potential cover he had in a defensive manner. If it was necessary, he could quickly vault himself over it and start to give some blind fire. More and more twitchy by the minute, the hitman tilted his head and spoke finally with a peculiar tone of voice. "Y-you... what was that? What bloody accent was that?" At this close proximity, Colin would see the facial gestures his target was making with his eyebrows and what could be seen of his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Say that again, ya fuckin' git?" Simon retorted in a mocking way, his hand nervously placed against his ear in an attempt to make a somewhat humorous yet intimidating gesture.

The hitman eventually stood, he switched his footing around a bit in a little boxer running-in-place jig. The alcohol certainly turned him into even more of an asshole. Skully leaned between his left and right, usually a sign of nervousness or a typical 'tuff guy' routine. He has seen multiple chavs pull it off for the sake of intimidating a threat of some sort. "I am the best hitter there ever was, mate. Ya do not know me very well, do ya?" As he finished his sentence, the man seemed rather expressive. His eyebrows raised and his somewhat visible, wide-eyed look showed that he was about to snap one way or another. "If you came from, where I came from, ya would be dead you witless wanker!"

"Y-you... what was that? What bloody accent was that? Say that again, ya fuckin' git?"

Grinning slightly and adjusting his glasses, Colin paid little attention to the posturing of his to-be enemy, confident in the fact that he would not be taken by surprise in this occassion at least. Now, he was the one who had the advantage of having aces up both sleeves, and rigging the deck to boot. Although the prospect of lenghtier battle was quite interesting, he knew that playing fair was not how assassins went about practicing their trade (for the most part), so seeking fair fight amongst their ranks would be suicidal effort. Still, this little encounter could be quite fun if Scully could give him at least somewhat of a fight.

"It's called Elysian accent, fuckface" the orange-haired youth said in response. "And since you insist... Are you or are you not the mother-fucking Simon Scully, or just some random freak in cheap mask and early high wasting my time? If the latter, get the fuck out of my face. If the former, I think that we will have some business of our mutual trade to conduct."

Seeing the man stand up, Colin rolled his shoulders slightly and cracked his neck, readying himself for a fight. While it was true that fights thus far had gone his way, there was no guarantee that this one would follow the trend, and from what he had heard "Skully the Ripper" knew how to use that funky bat of his pretty effectively. It was to be expected, really: you did not remain alive in this line of work unless you knew full well what you were doing. Still, he had solid confidence in his victory, his flippant grin going nowhere.

"I am the best hitter there ever was, mate. Ya do not know me very well, do ya? If you came from, where I came from, ya would be dead you witless wanker!"

"Good thing I don't come from where you did then, because oh man would it ruin my style to end up being assclown like you. I have standards for fuck's sake" he replied, streching his fingers slightly and pulling his longcoat slightly aside, revealing the large revolver holstered on his side. "The only remarkable thing from where I came from are the corpses of other witless hitters who had the stones to take me on, but not the brains to survive those encounters. Hope you will not be a colossal waste of time, because I have spent some time finding ya. Now, let's get to the good stuff" the assassin finished, drawing the large revolver from it's simple black holster and spinning it on his hand a couple of times like showman before taking stable, two-handed firing stance and aiming the weapon at Simon.

Press the trigger, never squeeze he thought, the advice of the old merc that had taught him the basics of gunplay years ago jumping to his mind unbidden. The old geezer had given him plenty of good advice, and even if he was far from being very accomplished of a gunman yet, his skills were usually enough with weapon as destructive as the double-barreled revolver he wielded. It's twin shots were able to demolish flimsier cover instantly, and every time he used it destruction was sure to follow. The six-shot firing capacity was small hinderance, but in fight like this one it should still be quite enough.

He pulled the trigger.

This one had a big mouth on him, he knew how to exercise his words into a painful tool. Not only did he further unsettle Simon, but he also outdid his cockiness and even mustered words that he could probably back up. Something that Skully had a reputation of doing, yet he was now being out done. It was a painful predicament almost, a hero to the homeless was not being degraded by someone with orange hair. Simon hated people with orange hair, he did not know why but there was a sudden reminder of his dislike toward them. Maybe he just now decided he disliked orange hair because of Colin, either way, this would lead somewhere badly.

"Ya want to back up those words, honey? Maybe got some songs you are gonna sing? You stupid git." Simon was quick to make his own retaliation to the man with an accent more distinctive than his. It was as if this kid came to just prove he was better at everything Skully ever aspired to do. Not to mention that much of his attributes are outweighed by Colin's, this would only entice the tension between the two much further. As the seconds clocked down, it seemed harder and harder to remain stationary for both of them.

Somehow, Skully's eyes managed to get wider. His buzz wore off slowly, his sobriety became more apparent as his twitchyness ceased. Shit just got real, it has been awhile since Simon had encountered someone with a legit fire arm. In fact, he has only met one or two individuals who had a deadly weapon that could be compared to anything in his arsenal. He slowly reached back to his backpack and unzipped it slightly, the bat became much looser in its fixed position. Still with drying blood that began to flake off the stainless steel, the swinging weapon could easily be grabbed at any measure of time.

"Big gun, you makin' up for somethin' else, mate?" Simon cracked at the weapon while it was holstered. When Colin portrayed his more than capable flexibility with the revolver, the attitude of the tosser named Scully changed considerably. For a moment they shared a hard determined stare, it was a well bridged glance of spite for the two opponents, the two rivals at this point. As far as Simon knew though, his assailant was a professional who had much more experience than him, or at least he assumed. First impressions were hard to erase, which is why everyone acknowledged Simon as an asshole or brute.

It appeared that the Skully gulped once Colin took a firing stance in front of him. The revolver looked particularly deadlier than any other variant he has seen. Worst part was that he would get an up close and personal demonstration of its capabilities. Once again he locked eyes with the one that confronted him, Simon seemed to make a very large grin under his mask. The most arrogant one he could muster, a shit eating smile that would make a Krogan proud. "Ready when you are, chav."

As the assassin applied the pressure, Simon's bat quickly swang out of seemingly no where to strike the fire arm. A large crack echoed through out the room as the revolver was pushed to the left by the defensive swing, thus changing its line of fire. The handgun discharged when it was perfectly aligned with the face of the bartender. His face seemed to violently twist inwards and the back of his head opened up like a hatch. It was a grim sight that caused the visitors at the bar to quickly ditch the place. Now with a bloody stump of a hardly recognizable face on the floor behind the counter, it was official everything escalated to the highest possible point in a few seconds.

Simon delivered a swift kick to the abdomen of Colin, it was an action done in pure adrenaline. His heart pumped blood viciously throughout his body, most of his senses were off the charts and now it was flight or fight. With 'absolute concern' for his friend the barman, Simon completely disregarded the casualty as he quickly vaulted himself backwards over the bar and to the protective cover of the counter. It did not help that his foot managed to hit the shelf behind him, knocking over expensive bottles of beverages on top of him. They were also quiet heavy and painful, unfortunately for him. He recovered slowly from his sluggish maneuver and stayed behind the protection in front of him.

He stuffed the bat into his backpack hard, accidentally knocking around his assortment of various thermal clips. Simon retrieved the only pistol he had with him in his pack at that time, the Judgement Pistol. The work of Batarian equipment was less than impressive, but it was pretty decent over all. "Ya fucked with the wrong arsehole today, tosser!" Skully mocked, he slowly raised the pistol over his head and the counter to fire some blind shots. They would more than likely not hit anything, but it was worth a try if anything.

Before he fired, they shared a moment of grim stare, both aware of the seriousness of the situation. It was said that before death one could contemplate the events that had led to that particular point, and now that death indeed hovered near when the deathmatch of two killers was about to start, Colin found himself contemplating. Not about his choice of carreer or the morality of such choice, about existence of afterlife nor even possible regrets he might have. His contemplation centered mostly on his own skills. Was he truly ready to face other people who killed for living, merciless and sometimes psychopathic inviduals who lowered the life to position of mere merchandice? He definitely thought so, but it would be sad to come to death's door saying "I was not ready". After this he definitely would need to practice more and train himself thoroughly if he wanted to keep winning... Assuming he would even survive this particular encounter.

And even if he would not survive, he would be at peace instead of the world of eternal conflict he had walked into with eager steps. That would still be something.

Bracing himself, he pulled the trigger... And was rather surprised as the rival assassin moved faster than he would have ever thought possible, his metal bat quite literally batting the revolver aside before the shot was fired. The double-barrel of the gun was left pointing at the face of the bartender instead, whose head was turned into bloody mess as pair of bullets passed through it like soft cheese, turning everything in their way into pulp. The uncontrolled recoil and sudden strike to his gun were well enough to take Colin somewhat off-balance, and thus unable to block the kick to abdomen that quite effectively doubled him over. As his enemy dove into cover, the orange-haired assassin was doubled over, winded even though he wore chestpiece of light armour covering his torso underneath the clothes. Then again, it was not very effective armour, but would save his life if necessary. Impacts from kicks and punches were another thing entirely.

"Ya fucked with the wrong arsehole today, tosser!"

Spending a small moment regaining his breath and cursing silently, Colin was forced to relocate busily as Simon began to fire shots over the counter with pistol of his own. Even despite his swaying and ducking one shot still struck his chest, luckily enough not penetrating the armour but still hurting like a motherfucker. Gritting his teeth and pressing his hand on the singed hole on his shirt where the bullet had passed through only to be stopped by armour, Colin raised his revolver again, the kneeling position helping his aim even if the bruises were now hindering it. Discarding any subtle form of attack, Colin merely took his best guess as to where his enemy was, basing his guess mostly on the location where his gun had fired from and the sound of falling bottles, and begun firing shot after shot straight at the bar counter. The powerful blasts ripped through the cover of plastic and thin metal like toilet paper, creating pairs of holes the sizes of krogan fist and demolishing the bottles and shelves behind the counter that they hit. Following the sound of hasty movement and curses the best he could, the young assassin continued systematically trying to get his enemy through the cover until his six shots were spent.

"Not feeling so brave now, are you, you son of a bitch?" he shouted back in biting tone, taking cover behind one of the upturned metal tables himself, opening the cylinder containing heatsinks of his gun and ejecting the spent ones in one deft move. "Write your bloody will now if you wanna, because you are not walking out of this fight alive!" he continued, busily slotting six new heatsinks in, one after another, before closing the gun again and springing from behind his cover, revolver raised with both hands and eyes scanning for any signs of his opponent. This fight had barely even began, but he had taken hits already. Hopefully he could begin answering in kind soon.

Simon's heart finally settled after some hard pounding within his chest. He saw what happened to the bartender's face, it was barely even there after those rounds went through it. Colin's unique weapon was something that caught the wannabe hitman's interest, it would be a good trophy if he were to kill his assailant. He would regret it later, but Skully my have to resort to running away if this stand off got any worse. This cover would not last him forever nor will it be his asylum, the exit out back was a sprint away. If he could not take down his attacker, than surely that was the next best thing. Until then, he was eager to keep his body against the counter as shelter from further gunfire.

His eye movement was erratic, the bum's mind raced faster than any bullet could be fired. In his blind fire attempt, it appeared that Simon managed to hit something organic. The sound was distinctive, but it was not as satisfying as hoped. A single round was fortunately stopped by Colin's armour, however that would not stop the pain that came with such luck. While the deadly projectile was stopped, a deep bruise would form in a matter of minutes. It would stay there for a few days and it would hurt when even slightly moving. But that was a small price to pay compared to one's life being diminished with a single shot.

With his thermal clip only down by two shots, Simon felt a tad more confident in his confrontation. That was until a large blast cut through his cover like he was hiding behind thin sheets of paper. Little parts of the counter spat out violently from where the rounds entered, leaving huge holes in the only shelter Simon had. With Colin making extremely well placed and intelligently guessed shots on his target's location, Skully scooted himself back in fear of the deadly weapon that fired upon him. Soon he crawled back toward the body of the barmen, Simon nearly slipped once he placed his gloved hands into the thick puddle of blood to further propel him away from the gunfire.

"Ya missed me, wanka'!" Called out Simon who temporarily leaned out some non-destroyed cover to fire through one of the holes in the counter Colin made. Covered in broken glass, a few cuts and a smug ass smile under the mask, Simon appeared to be in good shape. After he had fired his thermal clip, he was sure to slip a new one in and so he may continue to fire at the overturned metal table that Colin' ducked behind. Trying to keep his cool, Skully's shaking hands managed to reload the weapon. A loud slam startled him, "Shit!Shit!Shit!" He violently cursed and nearly threw his arms into the air, thinking he had been shot for a moment. Instead, it was one of the damaged shelves collapsing onto the lower ones, what remained of the glasses that were not shot were now thousands of shards on the ground.

Knowing his cover is no good as of now, Simon sprang up to fire some more shots at the table Colin was behind. As he did so, he proceeded to suppress the general area while he worked his way around the counter, or what was left of it rather. As soon as that thermal clip was emptied, the cowardly chav made a dash for the back door. He shoved his pistol into his pants for now, the barrel was hot and burned his thigh. But he did not care at that moment, adrenaline once again gushed through out his body as he sprinted to whatever safe haven he could find. It was only until he got outside that he noticed a strong stinging pain that was not the burning barrel of his own pistol against his leg. Blood dripped from the wound that only continued to open while he ran, his right leg had been clipped by one of Colin's lucky shots.

The exchange of gun fire finally cooled down. As Colin rose he would see that the bar has been pretty much destroyed in the encounter and that Simon was no where to be seen. A very suspicious trail of blood lead from around the counter to the nearby exit. It was obvious now that the hitman wanted to run away to fight another day. Simon had a steady running speed but the adrenaline eventually ceased as he made it out of the alleys behind the bar. "Yeah, that is how you do it... just live 'em behind..." Little did he know that he basically left a trail of breadcrumbs, a path which basically read 'chase me!' to his attacker.

The return hail of bullets rattling against his improviced but still effective cover and everything in the immediate vicinity was entirely predictable. As Colin waited for the air to clear and loaded his gun, his mind analyzed the fight in quite relaxed manner. If the other assassin would have gone for the attack, he would have likely ran at him right away and started beating away with his metal bat... But since it was not the case, the orange-haired killer easily deduced that his enemy was on retreat. Surpressing fire was a maneuver both useful for half a minute it took to flee to better position, like out of the door in this case, and a pain in the ass once you realized that you were out of shots and would have to reload again. It would be expecially nasty if one managed to waste his only remaining heatsinks futilely in such a manner, but after one swing from that baseball bat Colin was not quite sure whenever or not he really wanted to force his opponent into melee range.

Once he was certain that the shooting had stopped for the moment, Colin sprung up from behind his cover, revolver at the ready... And found himself staring at destroyed bar counter, quickly emptied bar establishment and small blood trail leading out of the closing exit. Paying no further attention to the dead bartender he had accidentally shot, Colin did only quick spin on the spot to make sure that Simon was no longer inside the bar before taking off in relatively quiet run, exiting the bar through the same door and following the small trail of blood. It seemed that he did manage to clip the bastard with one shot or another... Or maybe all the broken glass flying around had just cut him without him noticing the whole thing. Either way, the drops of blood were forming quite visible enough trail to follow, but he remained on his toes, gun held at the ready. One slip up and the rival assassin could get a drop on him, and that would be bye-bye for him... Something he was determined to avoid at any cost.

Warily moving through the back alleys in search of his elusive opponent, Colin kept his gun levelly aimed with both hands, showing that despite his cocky attitude he was still a rookie. He could not fire one of these things stably with just one hand, and even if he could have, the accuracy with this revolver was horrible when trying to move and fire. Thus, whenever he heard a sound or thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, he stopped and turned on the spot, the barrel of his gun seeking enemy that always revealed itself to be something relatively harmless or just plain imagination. These alleys made quite paranoia-inducing enviroment to hunt in, although the trail of blood did give him some indication on the whereabouts of his current target. Hopefully he would catch up to the guy soon...he sure could run with busted leg, it seemed.

Eventually, however, he heard someone talking to himself further on in one of darker alleys yet. Even through the guy quickly quieted up, he recognized the voice, and quick peer around the corner confirmed his suspicions about his identity. Raising his revolved in front of his face, Colin took long, quiet breath and prepared himself to spin around the corner. Illusion of safety in middle of deathmatch was for suckers.

Spinning around the corner with no warning or sound, he pointed the gun at quite clearly surprised hitman, his longcoat and scarf flaring behind him as he pressed the trigger and sent two bullets screaming out of the barrels towards his enemy. They were however avoided by the reflexes of his enemy, instead merely putting good dents to metal wall next to him. This time Colin was prepared and on balance, so he weathered the recoil easily and shot again, forcing Simon again on the run and nearly clipping him to the shoulder with one of the bullets. Running after the man, the younger assassin was in for a surprise: instead of another alley they ended up on quite big and busy street, aircars whistling some meters above the passers-by and many pairs of eyes turning to follow the two assassins as their game of cat and mouse continued. Throwing himself to the side to avoid another couple of wild shots from his opponent, Colin aimed and fired from the ground, catching one of the aircars above in the engine and bringing it down in the direction Scully was running into, cutting off his escape.

His little trick had somewhat unexpected consequences, however. One crash was followed by another as pair of startled drivers crashed on each other in high speed, and the long chain of crashes started as the street turned into sheer chaos. Jumping again out of the way to avoid crashing car, Colin's revolver slipped from his hand in the chaos, spinning away. He did not think about it all that much at that very second however, instead taking cover behind one of the crashed and partially burning aircars until the screaming and sound of screeching metal and explosions died down.

After figuring out that it was relatively safe to crawl out again, Colin got back to his feet, his orange hair bit blackened by grime and his coat partially torn by an explosion. Pieces of metal shrapnel had struck his side and leg, causing him to stumble and emit something between groan and cough as he breathed too deeply on small cloud of smoke eminating from crashed car. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the small, jagged pieces of metal out before getting shakily back to his feet to admire his handiwork. Piles of burning and wrecked vehicles littered both sides of the street, several of them having also hit the buildings nearby and set them merrily ablaze. Some dead or injured civilians could be seen in piles of rubble or ground, twitching weakly or remaining deathly still. The burning wreckages had closed off both sides of the street at least for the time being, creating a rough circle around him...and Scully who was also getting back to his feet not long away. Smirking to himself, Colin raised his hand only to realize it being empty. There would be no time to seek for his vanished revolver in the present second, so he would have to try something else.

Pulling the pair of bundled tech pieces from their place underneath his coat, Colin pressed the buttons on the handles and watched as the deadly sawblades unfolded around his hands, the rings of razor death he could always depend on. Pressing the button again, he looked at his enemy as the blades started rotating, slowly at first but picking up speed in seconds. "Alright, fucker, no running now. Think you can curse your way out of this one?" he asked mockingly, slashing through the air theatrically with his whining sawblades before bringing the weapons to his sides, ready to fight. This was most definitely going to be interesting.

After his popped out from around the corner, Simon's adrenaline returned as he darted out of the direction of another shot aimed for him. Every step he took in his run hurt like hell, his clipped leg bled more and more. It felt as if his wound opened with each time he planted a foot onto the ground, eventually his entire pant-leg had been consumed in blood. Hopefully he will be able to get somewhere safe before that would happen, as that would indicate just seriousness of his blood loss. There were moment where he felt as if he could pass out there and then, but he continued through the small crowds and groups of people.

Through a small market place was where he lead the on foot chase, Simon had plenty of places to run and hide to but there were few that could allow him to properly escape his opponent. As Skully made his way through the entrance of the small alley way, populated by bootleg products and potentially dangerous individuals buying black market weaponry. In less than a second, he had already pushed past someone and caused them to drop their possessions. The sound of a bottle cracking was the most recognizable out of whatever was knocked from the pedestrians hands. "Watch where you are going, human!" The Turian warned, shaking his fist for a moment before he knelt down to pick up his belongings. Only to have them kicked away from his grasp as Colin entered in his aim for Simon.

Skully looked back and fired three shots at Colin, who was not too far away from him. He could not tell if his weapon managed to hit anything, as his sluggish running disallowed for appropriate accuracy. Either way, he hoped it would slow his assailant down. It also cleared the market area rather well, the gunshops slammed down their shutters while the other store fronts were abandoned by both customers and owners. Their lives were more valuable than the over priced shit merchandise that ripped off authentic brands found on the Citadel. "You are all trenchcoat, scarf and no knickers, bitch!" The smug sonovabitch looked back over his shoulder for a minute to state such, only to run into a stationary Vorcha.

"Watch where go!! What wrong?!" The hideous thing question as Simon stumbled forward and nearly face planted. He extended his hand and pressed it against the ground to adsorb his momentum. Finally he was able to get back into the his running pace, it seemed like he was in the clear for a moment. It took him a moment to realize, but he felt something weird on his chin. When he looked over his shoulder he had placed his neck to his shoulder for a moment. It was now that he realized that he was clipped by one of Colin's shots earlier, he did not know when or where it was, but it was starting to bleed pretty bad as well.

There had to be another alley, he knew this small system behind his favourite bar well. Instead, as a result of the pursuit he found himself in a busy street. For a minute he put some dedicated thought into what had occurred and how he got there, but his mind drew a blank. He had screwed himself over and he was basically in the line of traffic. More shots rang out behind him, the sound of that revolver had become something that would haunt his dreams more than an Hanar porno. He spotted another possible exit, while Colin was distracted, this was probably his only chance to escape.

But there were one or two people in the way, he quickly pulled out his bat and swung toward the chivalry civilians who wanted to tackle the suspicious runner. "Bonk!" He said when he first struck one of them, the other gave a similar, satisfying meaty sound of the collision between both bat and skull. "Boink!" He taunted, as he ran forward he realized those 'vigilantes' were merely tourists who wanted to ask what was wrong and if he needed any help from the man shooting at sky-cars. Simon must have misheard their helpful gestures and mentally replaced their faces with that of Colin's. He wanted some blood now after this wild goose chase.

Then suddenly from above, a sky-car came violently down in front of him. Its crash propelled him backward, the force of impact with the ground was enough to crack one of his vertebrae and a rib or two. If he was any closer, the explosion would have ruptured his organs. Some shrapnel and glass rushed out toward him maliciously, but luckily he fell to the ground before anything caught into him or at least anything that was not too bad. Beside a large bit of scrap metal embedded between his index and middle finger, he was fine. Except for the glass that nearly cut his throat, instead he had a literal 'chip' in his shoulder. "Well that was bloody pointless..." Simon remarked, brushing off paint particles from his hoodie.

Soon, an entire hell storm of aircars fell down around him. The screaming and sound of explosions were enough to make him try to find refuge from the mayhem, but there was none. Instead, he eyed his still bloodied bat and ran to retrieve it. As he bent down to grab it, a sky-car slammed down behind him. A large piece of a door zoomed over his head, twirling like a boomerang. It seemed like the hellish incident had finished, the victims of the accident were forced to crawl out of the rubble while others were trapped. One Turian was burning alive inside his vehicle, his bondmate tried to run and get him out, but she was subdued by concerned pedestrians who did not want her to end up hurting herself as well.

"Damn, this bugger really hurts..." Simon complained as he brought his right hand up to his line of sight. A small spike of metal shredded from the crashed aircar was lodged between his finger, it felt as if it was somewhat deep within the meat of his hand. He grabbed onto it and gave it a good tug, he felt a pain like he never experienced before. Yet, he could not scream, instead he looked at his injured appendages in shock. His body began to tremble, he had lost a lot of blood in a short amount of time.

Simon turned around and stared at him like a confused child. This guy was crazy and his weapons choice were even more insane as he was. Skully picked up his trusty and soon to be rusty bat, this would be the defining moment for one of their careers. The ultimate confrontation of their beginnings, the origin that would start it all. "Come on now, why don't ya come hit me with those things tough guy?" At this confused and unsteady state, Simon could not tell if those were saw blades or toasters his vision was so blurry. It would not top him from defending himself, however. The smell of the fire ring around them would fuel the almost feral state of Skully. "I am not afraid to die, tosser!"

"Come on now, why don't ya come hit me with those things tough guy?"

"Don't you worry none, I plan to do just that, asshole" Colin replied grimacing slightly as his numerous bruises and small wounds made themselves known by sharp spikes of pain. Still, he could manage that, but it would make fighting somewhat more difficult. Regardless, he did not have much in way of other options. There was no going back from this situation...For either of them. That would just lead to even swifter death than usual... and he at least wanted to die on his feet, if his carreer was to end this early. Still, being taunted into making bad moves would be likely the last mistake he would ever make, so the situation called for calm mind instead of blind zerg rush.

Starting to circle carefully and looking for the weak spot of his opponent, Colin remained careful, mindful to keep the sawblades well away from his own body to minimize the risks of friedly fire. His weapons had not been constructed exactly with safety of the user in mind: they were weapons specialized on full and relentless attack, and had to be used accordingly. Although he did not know jack about proper close combat fighting, even Colin's wild flailing with the blades often made for suitable fighting style... Or at least kept the enemy guessing and confused until that one lucky shot took his head off. That was unlikely to happen in this case, of course, but he could always hope.

"I am not afraid to die, tosser!"

"You know, people always say that... And then they die" Colin said in return, sprinting forward and beginning the fight by swinging both of his weapons through the air towards Simon, one after another. Sadly, both of the strikes missed, but at least the whining sawblades seemed to inspire the correct amount of fear, or at least caution, from his enemy. Continuing to strike towards Simon, Colin forced the man back with flurry of strikes, some of them being deflected by the bat of the other assassin and raising shower of sparks as the teeth of the saws met the metal of the bat. Others were just avoided by ducking, and one of the dodges was quite dangerously close, Simon avoiding the dual overhead strike from the saws by moving to the side, the weapons missing him by centimeters as they cut partially through the door of the aircar wreck Colin had driven him against. In return, the orange-haired assassin got a good shove to the gut from the end of the bat, stumbling back from the force of the blow but luckily mindful enough not to bring his hand to his stomach and thus avoiding his own weapon cutting through the armour and stomach underneath.

As he stumbled, it was the masked assassin's turn to attack, and this time Colin was pushed back, most of the time only his swaying movements avoiding particularly nasty bat-swings. His weapons were not really the type that could be used for defence, and the fact seemed to be clear to Simon as well. Determined to regain the initiave, he stood his ground and went into offensive again, but Simon was quicker than he was even when suffering from blood loss and managed to sidestep and deliver nasty strike to his back, sending him face-first to the ground. Acting almost by panicked reaction more than by actual competence, Colin answered with an upward kick from the ground just as his enemy jumped towards him to likely try and beat his skull in. The hit landed squarely on Simon's chest, propelling him backwards in turn. Groaning in pain, Colin got back up somewhat shakily just in time with the rival assassin, spitting some blood from his split lip. The fall to the ground had not been very gentle one.

"Smooth moves from a nobody in cheap mask. You been on the business long?" he asked, mostly out of genuine curiousity but also hoping to distract the man and open up new avenue of attack. "Or I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? Eh? Because after this fight is over, I will be walking away with that funky bat of yours, and you will be layin' headless on the ground. But still, would be nice t' know something about someone who will soon not longer be around the place."

How he managed to duck under the deadly saws was unknown to him. He just know that he even surprised himself sometime. It was like a demon coming at him with its sharp talons, ready to rip and tear at the flesh of his body. It was a terrifying encounter, he always hated sharp objects. Shrapnel and glass was different, but a knife made him uncomfortable even thinking about it. With two saws intersecting each other above him only to come back to the sides of his attacker, the only direction to go was back on the defensive. Simon could hardly anticipate each swing from the saws, every time one of them even moved his nerves spiked and his body twitched.

"Bloody hell, you must be insane or something!" The weapons seemed more dangerous to the user than anything, yet Colin had a decent grip on their movement. Not very accurate, but a single cut from one of them would have been devastating. The strong heat from the fire that surrounded him along with the intense pain from his wounds accompanied the drowsiness of his blood loss, it was dangerously easy for him to mistake how close or far the dreaded weapons were now. As his heart continued to pound harder, to the point it felt as if something was trying to burst through his ribcage, blood continued to come out in a steady stream from his lacerations.

He had to become accustomed to dodging every time the saws sprang out for him. His vitals were virtually exposed since he had no actual armour or decent covering, other than his knee pads really. It was a bad situation to be corned into, the malicious hard ware gone wrong seemed to miss only by a line of hair. On one particular throw, he had to bring his bat up or face a painful, sudden death. A large shower of sparks erupted once the speeding teeth of the rotating blade bit into the metal bat's base. "Ya bloody crazy bastard!" Thankfully his glasses were able to prevent any damage from the sparks that rained backward upon him. The blades would occasionally slice across the bat as he continued to retreat, each time was rewarded with a large blast of sparks. By now, the bat had been dented slightly as well have been given some nasty looking 'teeth' from where the sawblades had lacerated the metal.

Skully did not realize he was pushed against a car until the blades of Colin skid across its door. He would not allow himself to be backed up into the wall only to die now, the bum had come too far for that. A decent jab to the stomach with the bat was enough to get Colin to back off. It was more than just a nudge though, the end of the bat had a small, jagged shard from the ripping of the saws. While it was stopped by Colin's armour, it could have made a very painful cut that would need to be disinfected. "No more mista nice guy, I had enough of ya bloak!"

On the offensive this time, he took quick but also very heavy swings at Colin. A good one would be enough to knock him down, to allow him to beat the living shit out of him. Being able to have Colin's life in his hands was an enjoyable thought, hopefully it would soon be a reality. Eventually, he finally retaliated and swung the rotating blades back at Simon. One what little energy he had left, he side stepped perfectly and at the right time. After readjusting his standing position, his stance was ready for a hard swing to the back of his opponent. The jagged, cut up bat would surely leave a nasty scar and bruise. It did not help that he face planted either. "Come on wanker, ya can do me a better battle than that!" At that very moment a firm kick landed into his chest, it was enough to knock the air out of him and send him back to the ground himself.

On his last legs, it was apparent now that his balance had started to suffer. If he was not killed soon by Colin, his wounds would do him in. "Cheap mask? Fuck ya man I uhh... I uhh.." He brought his face up to the bat for a moment. His glasses had fallen off, he eyed his own reflection for a minute. Fatigued, sweating hard and being mocked for his choice of facial garb, it did not look good for him. He quickly snapped back into offensive mode and was determined to for one last charge to victory. His momentum raised as did his weapon, the bat over his head with a firm grip, Simon was determined to lose it all or win it with this final strike. "This bat is mine, wanka!"

"Cheap mask? Fuck ya man I uhh... I uhh.."

Breathing deeply, Colin wiped some blood from his lips and shuddered as the beginnings of harsh fatigue were beginning to set in, despite the adrenaline provided by the fight to the death keeping him sharp and quick... Or as sharp and quick as one could be after getting smacked around like he had. Bruises, cuts, small burns and itching scratches all tried to distract him, and sweat and blood made his vision somewhat hazy and grip on his weapons unstable. Both the the combatants were quite spent by now, the damnable heat eminating from the burning wreckages only adding to their discomfort. This match had to end, and had to end soon. The final strikes would land when they next clashed, and the orange-haired youngster knew it. All he could do now was to trust his luck, instricts and watchfulness of whatever higher powers universe contained.

"That's not terribly much. Well, at least I remember that mask from you, and that is more than some poor bastards will likely get after I cross paths with them in the future", Colin said in half-cocky tone, his confidence having slipped some but still believing in his chances. "This will be the damn end to you, fuckhead!" he shouted, raising his sawblades for one last hurrah before he would likely need a break he would not get anymore.

"This bat is mine, wanka!"

Seeing Simon charge, Colin decided to meet the assault with his own, beginning to run towards his enemy in turn, his blades raised. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten. Five. Both of the charging men prepared to strike, their eyes burning with bright fires of adrenaline and survival instinct. Then, as in slow motion, Colin saw the strike from the bat arch towards his skull. With speed born purely out of fear, he ducked into roll, allowing his sawblades to move in pair of wild strikes as he passed from under the striking bat. The whining blades cut right through the elbow of arm wielding the metal bat, sending it flying in spray of blood. Spinning around and up from his roll, the young assassin swung his weapons again, and this time there was no escape from their whirring teeth. One of the weapons cut through Simon's chest whilst the other decapitated him, finishing the assassin off for once and for all... and covering both the weapons and coat of the killer in blood.

Breathing rapidly, the wide-eyed Colin released his fingers from the buttons of the Bloodletters, letting the weapons come to halt and power down, his hands still streched straight to his sides as if paralyzed right after his last, victorious attack. After spending half a minute or so absorbing the events, he let his hands fall back down to his sides, another press of arming buttons folding the sawblades up again until they would be needed. Looking down at his opponent who was now very thoroughly dead, he managed to summon up a weak smile.

"Guess what? That bat was yours. Now? It is mine" he spoke out, stepping on the wrist of the hand he had severed from Simon's body and prying the metal bat from the dead fingers. "These will make good trophies... At least you will be remembered, arsehole" Colin spoke, unhurriedly taking the skull mask from the face of his enemy and closing the staring eyes of the man. It had been close: one moment of hesitation and his skull would have been splintered. But he had triumphed...even if he would surely be sore in the morning. God damn, but the bastard had put up a good fight.

Placing his saws back to their usual spot and retrieving his revolver from the edge of the imputy battlefield, the young killer turned the bloody skull mask and bat in his hands. How many items like these would he take from corpses of vanquished enemies yet? He was uncertain, but had the distinct feeling that "many" hit close to the truth.

Reholstering his revolver, Colin began to slowly walk away from the ring of burning wreckages and mutilated corpse he had so recently procured. This might be just the beginning, but he was already feeling like shit. Some painkillers would most definitely be in order.

[End of thread]