It's Always Worth The Price (Gabe)

[binx]

It's been a long time coming
And the table's turned around
One of us is going down
I'm not running,
It's a little different now
'Cause one of us is going
One of us is going down


The first impression Binx got of the Crossroads Cantina was that it was a dive. Most of the furniture was stained from liquor, cigarettes, and probably other dark bodily fluids that had not so long ago been spilt there. Somehow she didn’t think the place had a busboy that went around cleaning up after the patrons. The floor was sticky under her boots and the air reeked of stale beer and cigarettes.

It already seemed like a second home to her. Several eyes turned her way when she walked inside. Binx knew what they were thinking. Prey. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had made that mistake. It most certainly wouldn’t be the last. She was very petite, but Binx was also very capable of taking care of herself.

Keeping her head held high, Binx walked through the crowd and up to the bar. She nodded to the man behind the counter and ordered a shot of whiskey. He raised a brow at her, eyeing her up and down, the look on his face plainly saying that he didn’t think someone like Binx belonged in a place like the Cantina. She leveled him with a dark gaze until he finally got her the drink.

“I’m looking for someone named Gabe McFearson.” Binx knocked back the shot watching for the bartenders reaction. “Apparently he’s a bit of an ass, turns furry by the light of the moon?” She raised a brow waiting for his reaction.

The bartender huffed and pointed her in the direction of a booth in the back of the building. Binx paid the man and headed over, not bothering to thank him for the information. She didn’t figure he was expecting it and honestly she didn’t care if he was.

Binx had been traveling a long road, ganking every demon in her path, trying to get information on her sister. True, she’d take on the occasional other job. A haunting here or there, maybe a vamp nest or two, but those were purely for fun. It was a good way to get aggression out and keep her skills sharp. Honestly she didn’t care that the man she was supposed to meet was a werewolf. Not so long as he provided her with the information she needed.

In her travels Binx met with some lowlife characters. Honestly those were the best ones to get information out of. It always came with a price, but that was to be expected. Binx was much the same way. She didn’t give out information for nothing. She knew how to play the game and many of the lowlife information givers often learned that she was not a meek, timid woman.

Bartholomew was a man with many talents. He could find things or people that would be helpful in ones journey, though ironically, it couldn’t help them find exactly what it was they were looking for. He could only show them their next step so to speak. Apparently Binx’s next step was this Gabe McFearson character. She’d done some research. Dangerous crimelord, yadda, yadda, yadda. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

Binx gun pressed into her belly as she sat at the booth. It was loaded with silver bullets, and she had several silver bladed knives on her. She wasn’t stupid, and Binx was not about to get eaten by an overgrown mutt with an attitude problem. That was seriously how someone had described him. It almost made her laugh. Leaning back into the torn pleather of the booth, Binx waited for Gabe to approach her.

[maddog]

Ah, the sounds of a grunge bar late at night; there wasn’t nothing that could compare. The sounds of glasses tinkling and liquor sloshing into respective shots was music to his ears, along with the acrid smell of cigarettes and the overlaying tang of blood. The clientele was rather tame tonight, as most of the local gangs were out finding something in which to pay tribute to their new master. A smile slid onto a certain ex-con’s face, as he stretched out in his favorite booth in the back. After a year of hiding out from the Feds, Mad Dog McFearson had managed to gain control of the drug, gun and human industries that ran through the mid-west. Though blood, intimidation and just a few bodies buried in various sink holes, he was right where he wanted to be.

Next stop, the west coast. Once he controlled California and New Mexico, he would have a real foothold in the prostitution rings that flourished under the hot sun. Not to mention that he’d have a nice chunk of the usual illegal immigration trade, and the drug shipments that ran in and out of the San Francisco ports. He’d have some trouble with the foreign gangs, like the Chinese out from Beijing, and the Mexicans down in the border towns…but all the pieces were falling into place.

Now, if only he could skirt the damn federal eyeballs stuck on the back of his goddamn head. He’d tried to fake his death multiple times, but did those monkeys believe the burnt or rotting corpses he’d planted throughout the country were his? Did they believe the rumors that he’d fled the US, or went to secure holdings out in Europe? Of fucking course not. Fucking pieces of shit do-gooders were fucking bad for business; sniffing around in places that they didn’t belong...

Kind of like the tail that sauntered up to his booth like she owned the place. Already in a dark mood from the path that his mind had taken, he had to bite back the urge to strike out. Breath in, McFearson, he told himself, jaw muscle twitching slightly when she proceeded to sit that fine ass down and interrupt his thoughts. Just breathe. He couldn’t afford to waste manpower on burying a body, since most of his guys were out making sure the local cops were paid off.

Though, he had to hand it to the woman; she definitely had balls, coming up to him like she did. Most of the guys who knew him around the city knew that he liked respect. They usually waited, asked around for a meeting time...basically, anything to make sure that the animal sleeping inside the volatile criminal wasn't about to burst out and go all Scarface on them. But this one...this girl just sauntered right up to his private booth and sat that fine ass down.

Mmm...definitely a fine ass. Though he was facing the back of the bar, the mirror that lined the wall gave him a lovely view of her backside, when she'd bent over to talk to the bartender. He'd have to kill the poor bastard later, for being so stupid as to point him out. What if she were a hit-lady? Or a Fed? Damn, and Bob had been one of the quietest 'tenders he'd hired yet.

Blunt fingers playing with the small glass, the crime lord looked up to give the girl a once over, a bored look on his face. The loose suit he was wearing whispered as he shifted where he sat.

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to,” He said smoothly, an inner city accent evident in his voice. “But when I want a lay, I come to you, not the other way around. If you want to keep that pretty face intact, get the fuck outta my fucking booth until I fucking call you over. Capiche?”

[/blockquote]

[binx]

It's been a long time coming
And the table's turned around
One of us is going down
I'm not running,
It's a little different now
'Cause one of us is going
One of us is going down


Gabe was nothing like Binx expected. Which was a good thing. Honestly she figured that the rumors wouldn’t live up to the man, and oh what a man he was. Tall, dark, and seemingly dangerous. Even through his loose suit she could see the rippling muscles under his chest and the way the sleeve tightened around his muscled arm as he lifted the glass to take a sip of his drink.

Still looks could be deceiving. While Gabe was most definitely doable, Binx still didn’t know if he’d be able to find out what she needed to know. So far no one else had. Annie was apparently a hard one to find. Binx didn’t know the name of the demon that had possessed her. It made things a bit hard.

Gabe’s voice was deep, raspy, and Binx simply raised an eyebrow when ever so kindly threatened her. There was no fear in her eyes. Binx had long ago lost the ability to fear.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been afraid. Not truly afraid anyways, and Gabe was no different. He probably had the means and the ability to kill her, but for that to scare her, Binx would have to be afraid of dying. Normally when she was in a life but closer to death situation she became eerily calm.

Binx leaned back in the booth, pulling a leg up to her chest, her finger playing on the handle of the gun in her waistband. She stared at Gabe for a moment, no fear, no anger, no nothing in her eyes. It was about as neutral a gaze as one could get. No emotion. Binx was good at that.

“That would be just fine if I planned on fucking you,” She eyed looked him over again her head tilting to the side as her gaze roamed over the hard muscles and lines of his body. “Which honestly I haven’t completely tossed that idea away just yet, but I’m here because I need some information. Now, you can either try to tear my face off or we can make a bargain. Capiche?”

Her words were even, no hint of anger behind them, because she wasn’t angry. Honestly she expected something like this, if not something worse. She settled into her seat a bit more, still keeping her hand, relaxed over the gun. She had no doubt that Gabe had spotted it. Honestly if they were to come to blows, Binx had figured he might actually be a challenge for her, unlike the other supernatural dribble she usually hunted. Though she’d rather test that theory in other ways.

[maddog]

Well, look at this…the wide eyed little kitten has claws. How amusing. Gabe took his time giving the girl a once over, amusement flickering into his eyes. There weren’t many people who stood up to him nowadays, so when he met someone with the cahones to look him straight in the eye and not piss themselves? It was definitely a sight to see.

…Not to mention something that he really couldn’t tolerate. Seriously, were they breeding stupid people? The little girl comes into HIS house, and talks to him as if he were a piece of shit? He rolled his shoulders, relishing in the painful cracks.

Calm; he had to be calm. He was already hiding from the Feds; he couldn’t afford to have yet another face appear in the local newspapers as ‘missing.’ She was obviously out of her element, new to the bar, and unaware of his reputation. FUCK if that last part didn’t sting, however, he thought with a little growl deep in his throat. Everyone should know his goddamn name! THIS was why he just couldn’t stand the news nowadays. Everything was about the economy, or the war; not the important things…

Like the therapist who owed him money had suggested- right before he got his tongue ripped out, that is- Gabe took two deep breaths, forcing himself to relax. God, this was why he hardly ever came around the Cantina during its crowded times, and certainly when he didn’t have any business to attend to.

“Well, don’t be doing me any favors,” He replied dryly, tipping back his shot. Looking almost bored, he glanced around the room and shook his head as a few of his guys started to approach the table. As if he couldn’t handle a woman, for chrissakes. Then again…there HAD been that really hot Asian lady with the sharp jinsu knives the other month. Go figure that the Chinese gangs wouldn’t like his moving into their shipping business.

He Leaned back in the seat as he refilled the small glass. “Information, hmm?” Okay, so color him slightly intrigued now. After downing yet another shot, he idly toyed with the empty glass. “Why don’t you just tell me what you wanna know? Things would work out so much smoother that way.”

He paused, a nasty little smile sliding onto his face as he looked back up at her. “And for future reference…I wouldn’t be tearing into your face. It has so many other beneficial uses.”

[/blockquote]

[binx]

A lazy smirk crossed Bink’s face when Gabe talked about the uses of her face. He was right. There were so many other uses for it. Yes, uses she wasn’t opposed to potentially using on him. If they didn’t kill each other first. Gabe’s reputation wasn’t a nice one. In fact it was down right scary. Well to normal people. A lot of people wouldn’t have come, but Binx figured she’d been dead on the inside for a long time now. If she actually died, well she couldn’t imagine it being much different.

Binx nodded at Gabe. “Down to business then. I’m looking for a demon. I don’t know its name. Just the hosts name. Nasty little bitch by the name of Anastasia Connors. Probably goes by Annie still.” Reaching into her back pocket Binx pulled out a picture of her sister and slid it across the table to Gabe.

Not that she was about to mention it was her sister. Gabe hadn’t asked her name and she wasn’t obliged to give it to him. Even if she did, it would simply be Binx, not Bianca Connors. Apparently her parents had an affinity for frilly little names that didn’t suit their daughters at all. Not much she could do about it though. Besides she had plenty of alias’s that she could give as well.

“I don’t want her killed,” Binx continued after a moment. “In fact I wouldn’t recommend sending anybody to try. They’d probably be eating their own intestines out of her hands before they were full dead. I just need a location. As for payment,” She shrugged, “Well now I guess the question is, what do you want in return if you manage to pull this off?”

[maddog]

In amused silence, Gabe watched the woman come to terms with his suggestive little comment. So, she wasn’t one of those femi-nazis women who took offense to everything a man said, was she? She kind of looked the type, with that no-nonsense set to her face and the way she practically oozed a ‘touch me and fucking die’ aura. Not that he really minded the latter part; a guy had to respect a woman as seemingly fragile as this one, managing to hold an air of nonchalance when faced with the rough and rowdy crowd of the Cantina.

He had to be a bit truthful; he was disappointed when she so easily allowed the conversation to turn to business. Sure, he had asked for it himself, but hell’s bells…there really weren’t a lot of women out there who could sit across from him so calmly. Most of ‘em were tended to either fidget or call his attention to their boobs, to win some kind of favor out of them. It was well known around certain circles, that gangsters didn’t live long, but loved to shower gifts on their bed-bunnies. Who would’a thunk it?

With a little shrug, the werewolf picked up his eyes from where he’d been giving her own chest a good ‘hello, name’s Gabe,’ and concentrated on what she was saying. His brows rose slightly in surprise, and he looked at her with new interest.

The kitten had claws AND knew about demons? Was that all she knew about?

For a second there, he was quite tempted to take her down to his special room in the basement and see how much she did know. Was she really there to hunt for a demon…or for a werewolf? Fuck if he hadn’t gotten shot at by those freakishly annoying fuckers who thought themselves ‘protectors of the innocent,’ or some shit like that. If there were one thing that he hated more than cops or traitors, it was fuckin’ hunters.

But he would play nice. Her mouth did have all sorts of…possibilities.

Gabe didn’t touch the picture; merely gazed at it as he steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “You came to the right place, beautiful.” He said, amusement evident in his voice. “Finding people- demons included- are a specialty of ours. But I’m afraid such services aren’t cheap. There’s the cost of man-power, the virgin sacrifice for the tracking spell I use…you understand.”

He made a show of leaning back and considering what he’d ask of her. His eyes turned dark for a moment, as they wandered up and down her torso, but in the end, he merely shrugged. “Information would suffice. When we’ve found this demon of yours, I’d love to question it before you do…whatever you do.”

[/blockquote]