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GM Thursday 5th June Late... Sidewinder Tattoo Parlor It was hard to say when custom grew short in a Tattoo palor in Riverside. The place kind of buzzed along until the earlier hours of the morning, along with all the other new age shops, bookstores, gay and lesbian bars, and every other kind of new millenia bohemian and hippy who wandered the streets. It was, overall, a pretty friendly atmosphere, but, like all of Freedom City, pass midnight and dark, things sometimes got unfriendly. Drink had been drunk, and, given the bohemian artistry of the place, drugs had been smoked. And nasty things did happen. It was happening to one man right now, Vince Cotton. He had had a few many to drink, and was stumbling out of a gay bar worse for the wear, badly singing some club tune. Vince was a regular guy, but dressed up too well for a night in an alley. Gold watch, diamond cuff links, and a wallet stuffed with cash that nearly fell out of his pocket. He happened to be a literary agent for one of the biggest book publishers in Freedom, or indeed the states. And his job paid very well, including a rather vague notion of expenses that allowed him to party hard, and free, most nights. Drunk as he was, he barely felt the kick that took him tumbling into some trash cans and cut his head open on the metal edge of the can. He sobered up as best he could, but his legs had gone from under him. The two guys who approached him could have easily just picked up his wallet and left it at that. They didn't look like those kind of guys. The shaved heads, leather jackets, and nazi tattoos gave one the impression that it was about cutting a hole in some homosexuals heart first, and the money was just the bonus prize. If only it had been the other way round... Snickt! was the sound of a flickknife opening...

OOC for Skaere becomes the hunted!