Silvia Stone was a vigilante with only one goal in mind, to give criminals a swift and painful death. As one could imagine, Superman didn't exactly appreciate the bodycount that was mounting. After being thrown into prison, breaking out, and more en...
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She wore a greenish-blue gown made of soft, satiny fabric, long and loose. A semicircular, high collar made of silk-like materials headed the ankle-length robe. She walked as lightly as an acrobat. A puff of wind swept through her blonde hair, forcing a few thin strands out of her tight bun.
Silvia pushed down on the light fabric of her dress and waited for the breeze to stop thrashing against her skin before she let go. Dresses... She could never quite describe her hatred for them, on windy days in particular. It felt necessary tonight though. She was heading to 'Ace o' Clubs', a fairly popular bar in Suicide Slum. One of her contracts, Arnold Wesker (The Ventriloquist), was performing there.
After so many days of avoiding both the police and criminals, Silvia was relieved to finally be getting back into action. There were too many prisoners on the loose for her liking.
The bar was filled with multiple conversations told at once when she entered, all of them competing with the loud rock music that dominated the atmosphere. The strong smell of alcohol filled her senses, followed closely by blood from one of the many bar fights.
On the stage to her left was exactly the person she was looking for. He was an older man with grey hair spiking out of either side of his head, but a large bald spot cutting through the middle. Secured on the bridge of his nose was a pair of circular glasses that obscured his eyes from any long distance, and on his lap sat a puppet with a cigar in its mouth.
Silvia's gaze stayed fixed on him as she took a seat right at the back of the pub. Silvia clicked the safety off on her silenced pistol, which sat concealed in a holster on her thigh. She decided to be patient... So she simply watched Wesker nervously adjust his chair and wait for the song to finish. She knew this was going to be absolutely terrible...
The place was filled with numerous thugs and generally unpleasant looking people. A group of them were laughing at the awkward man on the stage.Before too long, the song came to a close, and Wesker tapped on this microphone. "U-Um hello is this on?"
A gravelly voice answered as his puppet's mouth began moving "Of course it is, dumbass. Can't you hear your own stupid, annoying voice?" There was a considerable reaction from the crowd as Wesker started to sweat and the puppet continued to speak. "I'm Scarface. Don't worry about this guy. He just likes to follow me around and stick his hand up my anus."
Silvia stared wide-eyed at Wesker as people began to laugh. She couldn't believe that people found this funny... Wesker stammered "S-Scarface, do you really want to use that k-kind of language?"
Scarface looked up at Wesker, slapped him in the face and replied "I do whatever the fuck I want, butt hand man."
Silvia rolled her eyes as the next wave of laughter came in. She needed a drink. Before she could get to her feet, she felt...something. She looked towards the door, and there was a familiar man moving to walk across the room but slowing down after he saw her. "Miss Stone?"
