The all out status war

~Alex~

"Sure" he said smiling, "Why wouldn't I want to take you"

Carlie blushed and smiled, "Thanks"

Emily jumped up in joy, "This is going to be awesome, I have to go buy my dress"

*The Dance Now?*


Alex's suite --- http://media.photobucket.com/image/jare ... Leto10.jpg

http://media.photobucket.com/image/jare ... O.jpg?o=32

Emily's dress - http://www.theprettydresscompany.com/ac ... jo_057.JPG (so pretty!)

*Sure*

Carlie's dress.
http://www.promdresstoday.com/images/dr ... om1138.jpg
(it's so pretty!)

Sam~~

Sam was Sam again, finally and she ran through the corridors of the expansive school. She was late for her own meeting, the Peace Makers meeting. She slowed to a walk as she slid into the classroom, it was in shambles. Graffiti was scrawled against the wall and desks were overturned. A the black circle in the middle indicated bomb usage. The room held no people and was completely silent, she then turned off the light and turned around to go get changed into Maria. The strange thing was when she was checking the class she felt watched.

Maria/Sam~

Maria stepped gracefully into the lower parking lot of the school. Her hair was pulled into two seperate braids and her skinny pants hung on her hips.

"Hey Shaun," She said as she walked towards him leaning against his car.

"Oi, the big guy wants us to go back to the building for something," Shaun looked around Maria and then back to her, "Wheres Mikael?"

"Somewhere..." She rolled her eyes mentally.

"Well we can't leave without him,"

"Without who?" Mikael popped out of no where.

"Let's go," Shaun said dryly, covering his astonished expression.

~~~~~~

"Hey kiddos," Lombardi greeted the three of us as we walked into the room, "You ready to go to that dance?"

"A dance?" Sam was confused, the job description didn't involve dancing. The only thing she was supposed to do was surveillance. She would have to change her whole look since people would recongnise her never the less.

"Yeah, no greater information than gossip." Lombardi clapped and two men opened doors, "Men to the right and girl to the left."

*Sam is going to change her whole look including her hair color and eye color.**

i need john to post one more time before i go then we can do the dance. that cool with everybody?

Shuan:

Shuan's mind was a thousand different places all day least of which on the information that he had seen earlier. His body was weak from lack of sleep by the time that it came to practice.
“Whats the matter dough boy,” Coach yelled at him from across the gym.
“I am tired,” he gasped ready to collapse to the floor.
“Oh, I am sorry,” The mock sympathy in his voice could have been heard by Helen Keller as he blew his whistle. Everyone in the gym stopped, “Alright, it turns out that Shaun is too tired to be here at practice. So, Shuan please sit down, Everyone else do laps until I get too tired to be here.”
“Coach, I am fine I'll keep going.”
“No, by all means rest princess, run ladies.”
Shuan pulled himself to the bleachers and sat watching his teammates get increasingly angry, with each lap he knew that this would get worse for him.

Two hours later, Shuan had made it home managing to avoid any real harassment from the others. He quickly showered and dressed himself, not pausing long enough to notice that his computer was broken. He only stopped in his room long enough to throw the flash drive that had the original on his desk. The first meeting of the Peace Makers Club was tonight at the community center and Shuan had no intentions of missing it.

Shuan:

By the time he had arrived at the Peace Makers Meeting everything was wrenched. It looked like a bombed out building the kind you would have seen in Saving Private Ryan.
“Great, this is going to set everything back.” Shuan sighed to himself.
As he looked around the room he noticed a pattern, I was some sort of code. He had to stair at it for a little while before he figured out what it meant. The parts of the black broad remaining had marks, One he knew as a color symbol and two others he didn't recognize. This must be the people that arrived late and were pledging their support, he thought to him self. Shuan places another “X” in the area that meant colors making the number of colors six, and the grand total 18.


The parking lot was dark by the time that Maria showed up and the smell of one of summers last campfires burning away slowly was in the air. Shuan was dressed to kill but tired of all the death. As he leaned against his car he thought of the scene the night before in Scarlett's house and this brought him to the flash drive, the thing she was killed for. I should have brought it with me he thought to himself. Maria approached him dressed in jeans tight enough to cut off Shuan's circulation and he wasn't the one wearing them....

It ticks!

The Watcher pants breathlessly, tongue dangling out the side of his wide, gaping mouth. All four feet dance in the rhythmic forward momentum bounding roof top to tree branch to roof top to street light. He just hopes he can prevent it.

Louder and louder. The Watcher approximates the time he has left with rapid and accurate precision: 3.32 minutes(s). Can his feet take him that quickly? The big grey brick house was very far. The Watcher has never needed to traveled so far. The Watcher has never needed to.

But for some reason he does not want the pretty one(s) to stop moving! Master says it must happen. Master says there must be no 'PIECE'!! The Watcher knows not what it means but the Watcher will not let it happen.

With seven large steps he is from the outer fence, across the yard, and to building. His fingers insert themselves into the brick material, cutting through it with the easy of pressing into jello, and he is on top of the building. Sprawled out like a relaxing spider, he pauses, closes his eyes, and halts breathing. A subtle click in the back of his heart tells him precisely where in the building it is. He rips the cover from the whirring box atop the building and scurries inside.

He cares not for the tremendous noise it makes. The metal tubes clang as loudly as thunder. He is on a mission! He must protect them! His destination approaches, he bursts down, through the metal tube, and lands in the center of kids. They are all busy, the ones dressed in rags spray the walls with their ignorance and laugh, while the ones in riches remain tied like hogs in a festival. Little piggies with wide little eyes, scared of the butcher that next comes. Where is the one(s) he looks for? But the one(s) he looks for are not here. He recoils into the tube like a filmed flower in reverse.

BOOM!

The kids pieces lay everywhere.

Moments later the pretty one who changes enters.

The Watcher is happy to see her okay.

Sam~~

The car was silent, as Maria typed on the laptop. The passengers followed the car's smooth curves as they made it towards the large gray building. The light tone music floated through the air as the speakers pulsed gently to the beat.

"You hear what happened to the peace makers club?" Shaun asked.

"Yeah," The creator sighed as the burn marks came back to mind. The smell, the feeling of being watched it all made her shiver. The program was a bust and it couldn't be helped, but she couldn't stop. There had obviously been takers on the whole idea but they were never given the chance to do something. She felt as if the person or maybe even thing was still watching and would pop out any second.

They pulled up the large white stoned building, it's columns were large and could most likely house a giant.

"This is where the dance is held?" Sam was in complete guffaw, they didn't spend half of this on prom.

"Apparently. You ready?" Shaun asked as Maria answered with the raise of her bag full of fun and ruffles.

~~~~~

The hall was full of dancers and pumping music, the rockers had put the track together apparently. Shaun had changed quickly also, his red tie matched Sam's own dress. The red dress was laced with black lace at the bosom, Her brown hair was hung in half ringlets, a skill she had acquired from the seniors of her days of freshman year. Sam spotted a familiar figure perched against one of the poles, sipping his own drink.

"Shaun, I'll be back and if you need me you can call me and or text me"

And she started towards Styler for she had alot of questions.

okay this is going to be long cause i have a lot to catch up with

“I'll see to your friend, Mikey. Tell him to come see me. I'll get a better feel for what he likes.” Lombardi grinned.

“Alright, Mr. Lombardi. Thanks for your time.” Mikael slid out of the chair, “So... if we're done here?”

“... which we are.”

“... I'll see you when I catch the sicko.”

Toni smiled to himself and dismissed the others with a brief wave of his hand. He leaned back in his chair like the confident business man that he was. The goths being framed for two murders, a shipment of heavy artillery, the goths practically excluded from this weeks dance with the removal of their mode of transportation, and a hitman on call. Ooooh yeeaah. As for the hitman on call...

He moved to the closet door and twisted it open to find the tied up thesbian futilely attempting to remove the plastic bonds tied to the bone. His lips twisted in amusement. Toni knelt down ran his fingers carefully through his hair.

“Kid, kid, kid. Never.” He took his head between his two hands and tilted the kid backwards till his back arched like a bowed ruler. His lips dipped to his ear, “... and I mean never. Mess around in my school again. You hear me? These halls are mine. These walls are mine. These floors? Mine. So you can just assume that server room was mine as well, capice? You kill something? You ask permission. You spying on someone? You come to me. From now on I own you. And I got some work.”

The boy kept his cool, cold stare trained with ferocious intensity on Toni's.

“Fine. You need a few days to get it? I got a few days till I need ja.”

Lombardi kicked the boy square in the face to push him back and slammed the door to the closet closed. It locked with a click.


~~


Antonio Lombardi was running out of time. Anxious to the point he felt like he was brushing his teeth with sandpaper. The dance was this evening and he still hadn't heard anything from Mikael about Scarletts murderer. He should have never let that scoped M16 assault rifle to Mackinze without insurance that the job would be complete. Ah well, he'd just 'take it back' if he needed to.

Toni paced in the principals office and sniffed a fat whiff of air.

“Stinks in here.”

Marco stifled a laugh.

Toni moved to the door once again and knocked on it loudly. There was a return bang.

“Ooh! Looks like Mr. Silent is ready to negotiate,” with that he pulled open the door. Inside there was the same boy dressed in a black stealth suit, looking just a little more haggard now from the days he spent alone inside there. Toni picked him up to his feet and shoved him down onto the desk. Marco stood ready with his pistol while the boss pulled down the strip of duct tape over his mouth.

“So? Whaddya say?”

“I'll do it,” breathed the boy.

“Good. Good.” His devils face revealed itself once more. “You see? I'm not an unreasonable man. I never asked for your name, who you work for, or what you were doing in my server room. Alls I ask for a return favor for the inconveniences you cause me,” he explained as he cut loose Stylers bonds.

Stylers hands instantly closed his windpipe and tightened. Lombardi held up his hand to signal Marco not to shoot. He merely let the boy get out his aggression. Moments later, after Toni's head flushed red, Styler did release his grip.

“You're lucky,” he said.

“Luck ain't got nothing to do with it.”

“You're right. Its the money.”

With that the boy picked himself from the desk and made his way out of the room.

Lombardi adjusted his collar as Marco gave him a confused look, “How'd you know he wouldn't kill you, boss?”

“Because,” he stared after the kid, “I woulda done the same thing.”


~~


“Men to the right and girl to the left, “ he snapped, “All behind me. Maria, take my arm.” He held his bowed arm out to her.

With that they entered the dance. Some local band blaring their original song. He wasn't in the mood. It would take a lotta ice to cool off this flame. He hadn't received anything he wanted this week. His plans for the evening in shambles. Except one thing. The shipment of artillery had been received and was to be delivered tonight. Styler had texted him moments ago with this information. It was the only reason Lombardi even made face at this event. The dance posed as the perfect place to distribute to get his soldiers strapped for the impending full-throttle war.

Stylers Suit

Shuan:

Maria was easily the most gorgeous girl that Shuan had ever meet and he felt guilty about this. It was only the day before yesterday that he was smiling at Zetra and will to end this war but he had spent a lot of time with Maria now. She was to him a riddle, a song with no words that was stuck in his head. They had entered the dance together and he had hope that he would get to dance with her, he knew it was business but that didn't change the way that he felt. She had just left this side to go talk to some kid dressed in a white suit and it wasn't that he was jealous per say but the kid could wait...

“Hey, wait,” Shuan said to her putting a hand on her shoulder.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing I was just wondering if you wanted to dance.”
“Yeah, I am sure at some point I'll have to dance.”
“No, I mean with me.... ya know to establish that we came together, ya know for our cover story” His face had been becoming progressively more red in color but now it had reached it peak.

**So how is Sam going to look now?**

Styler Wayne leaned casually against the punch table, arms folded across his chest, and ears ringing like he'd just been back from war. His busted lip had scabbed over in the few days he'd been locked up in the closet, and he still looked like a tortured prisoner. Aside from the suit, he just didn't have the time to gussy up. Lombardi was a bastard but his tactics were effective. He got the job done.

All it took was a few bullets.

High beams from the approaching truck shone through the old broken out windows of the long since vacant warehouse. Their lights changed the silhouettes of jagged glass into a sharks gaping mouth against the far wall. From the upstairs office on the catwalk, Styler remained silent. Watching. His fingers clutched metal and he was ready for death. A typical Friday night.

The ambiguous truck pulled up to the warehouse and a moment later he could hear the clatter of the heavy, plastic garage door roll back and up onto the ceiling and the jingle of the chain being tied in place so the door would stay up. The vehicle roared as it flipped backwards into proper position for the slanted loading dock. Three men, all dressed in chains and leathers, exited, followed by the two from the cab. In the stirring darkness four more men revealed themselves. These men were all cloaked, hoods drawn over their gaunt faces; Styler couldn't tell to whom they belonged. He didn't need to. When two groups established their meeting, started talking numbers, then he could hear the banging of boxes being carefully lowered into the truck. Styler took his cue to initiate his plan.

He guilefully slid from the office window to the lip of the roof. There he eased himself silently across where he dropped down along side the truck. His next moves were as important as breathing. Failure would mean nine angry men and a whole lot of heavy weaponry at their disposal. So his fingers deftly wedged themselves between the silver handle of the car door. They pried. It opened with a load, world shattering pop. Blood left his body like he just tipped his glass of water upside down.

If Styler reacted any less quick, he would have left the scene in a body bags. Multiple, he was sure. His gun flung forward as fluidly as a competing dancer, and he squeezed.

Pop! Pop!

The bullets littered the roof of the warehouse. The first glancing off and past its target, the second catching the chain directly in its link. Sloppy. But enough to give Styler a picturesque scene of a bunch of dumbfounded Goths as the heavy door shut with a loud calamity.

The next few seconds were bedlam. Foot met petal and petal met metal. Tires squealed with reluctant obedience and the truck sped off with a brief fishtail into the surrounding woods. Behind him, Styler could hear the whooping of large auto cannons messaging him little bullets that whispered in his ears, shattered his windshield, and clunked into the side of his new truck like a fist full of pebbles on a sheet metal wall. His finger waited patiently over the large yellow and black switch on his remote detonator.

With the ease of flipping on a light, the warehouse lot became an empty crater.

Now, he waited patiently for Lombardi's return word. Apparently his new employer liked to oversee the distribution of his product. It was an annoyance but one that was understandable. After the near hitch-less run he just preformed Lombardi would trust him. Maybe enough to get some info out of him. Like what exactly was on that flash drive. Like what would cause Agresta to turn her back on her own student and place a hit on her. Like what exactly forty boxes of AR-15 assault rifles with under barrel grenade launchers, extended clips and armour piercing rounds was to be used for.

Sam made his way over to him and he swallowed. She'd want answers. Not all of which he was sure he could give her. It would depend, solely, on what she could provide him.

Damn.

Intercepted on the way. It seemed to be a common theme between he and she. Their relationship consisted of twelve combined seconds of conversation, some eye contact, and maybe an e-mail or two from time to time when they needed to convene on a job. A typical spy relationship.

Styler let out a long breath and slowly shifted his gaze across the dance floor. Cold gray eyes swam through the bodies like a shark searching for its prey. It meant nothing. It was merely how he always looked. But his eyes found themselves straight on the stage, watching the group of four play on stage. The two girls in cute dresses, and the boys in suits. Despite how good he looked, the notion that people would be dancing at this event tickled him. Styler just never had the time.

Mikael

Lombardi had promised me Mac would be looked after. I started my hunt for a sicko at the scene of the crime in the new threads Lombardi had given me. My usual clothes plus combat vest, sig .37 and a mp5 all to my exact specifications. Who ever had done this was good but i needed to be better. After a few hours of searching the house top to bottom i had come up with very little. A partial shoe print, the tip of a finger print and some empty shell casings.

I headed back to Lombardi's place, handed over what i had found for testing, changed and set off for the dance.

Andy

Some people were paying attention to the music they were playing. Others were just dancing because there was music. Either way, from where Andy stood with his bass, no one who was listening to their music while they danced was disliking it. He'd seen some disapproving looks thrown the way of some of the other bands, particularly the goth and colour bands.

After they'd finished two each of Emily and Carlie's songs, the principal appeared at the side of the stage, "Take five, guys." he said, obviously trying to talk like he imagined they did, "I'll put you back on later. For now, one of the other bands needs a turn."

Andy nodded, setting his bass down backstage then glancing over at Emily, smiling a little, "So..." he said, "How about that dance?"

He was desperately trying to avoid looking at some of the more obviously dangerous people here. Sure, there were thugs from the colours and the goths alike, but they didn't so much concern him. No, it was those few standing on the fringes of the crowds, like that kid over by the drinks table.

That sharklike look in his eyes had almost thrown Andy off a couple of times, and that was something that very rarely happened. In fact, Andy couldn't remember a time when he'd almost missed a note on a piece he already knew. Who was that kid? And why did he seem so dangerous?

Most importanly, who did he work for? Whoever controlled that boy was someone to watch out for. Just by looking at him, Andy could see his discipline, hisntotal confidence that no one could do his job better. He recognised it from the way he carried himself when he had an instrument. No one could outplay Andy. And whatever the boy by the punch did, there was no one better. Which was what Andy feared about that kid's boss.

And sooner or later, Andy knew, their little band was going to get approached by that boss. From what Andy could guess, he didn't think that guy would be the type to let people, least of all a band, promote peace in this war torn school.