The Independants/Rap Sheets/JaymetDani
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
When Jason met Dani
He carried himself like he had always done, a brash, confident swagger paired with the cocky grin of someone who not only knew that he was "all that" but also actually believed it as well, every fibre of his being practically daring anyone who was looking for trouble to get in his face and do something about it.
Appearances, however, are often deceiving.
Behind the smug, confident exterior, his mind was reeling from the unexpected events of the last few days and his heart racing with something that might even had been fear. Ever since he'd gotten off the boat and entered this brave new world he'd half-way expected to feel a blade burying itself in his back, but he was going to be damned if he was going to let the world see that!
He'd been on the run before, and before that he'd been weak, helpless and a victim, and he'd sworn then, looking down at the crashing waves breaking against the rocks that set his sister free, and left him behind, that he'd never be that again, no matter the cost.
If only he wasn't hurting so badly...
It had been a few days since it had happened, since his "brothers" had turned on him and forced him to run once more, and what little supplies there had been at hand while he was laying low was long gone, leaving him with nothing but a keen, burning desire for chemical release that only grew more urgent by the hour.
"Stupid motherfucker!" He cursed himself silently "The fuck didn't you hit up some old contacts, get some shit stashed away before you fuckin' bolted?"
He shook his head briefly, one hand running through his unruly hair while the other stayed at his knife. "'Cause I ain't THAT fuckin' stupid is why!" He answered himself silently as he made his way across the arena plaza, taking in the unfamiliar sights. "'Sides, these are the fuckin' Isles' ain't they? Gotta be loads of places a dude can get hooked-up just fine, all I gotta do is fuckin' find 'em, right?"
That's when he noticed her. Across the plaza, by herself, lying back on a stone railing, eyes closed, not a care in the world and a joint in her hand.
Red-head, maybe not beautiful in any conventional sense of the word, but damned attractive nonetheless. Trained eyes took in not just her curves, though they certainly featured heavily in the deliberation, but the guns only barely concealed under her open vest as well.
Little old maybe, but hey, any port in a storm, right?
And besides.... he *really* needed that hit...
Grinning to himself he pushed the burning urges back down into the darker corners of his scarred mind and strolled closer keeping the cocky grin on his face, the sparkle in his eye and a hand on the knife, just in case.
And that's how it all began....
Adrenaline was flushing through his system, washing away, for the moment, the mind-blasting chemical cravings, soothed somewhat from earlier, along with any hint of apprehension left or shred of restraint.
He was on fire, he was alive and he was kicking ass!
The stench of blood and cordite was thick in the air, but still not nearly powerful enough to overcome the curiously combined odour of grave-rot and fear the large bruiser confronting him was exuding through every pore of his muscled frame.
His face might have been covered by the mouldy skull of some unlucky hobo who picked the wrong place to crash for the night, but it didn't do squat to conceal from Jason the fact that his larger opponent was practically wetting himself as they danced.
Easily ducking under a powerful, but clumsy, swing of the Gravedigger's hatchet he hammered his elbow down on the larger man's knee and was rewarded for his efforts with a sickening pop followed almost instantly by a scream of pain as the Skull stumbled and fell, just in time to catch the hilt of Jason's blade full in the face as came back up to met him.
Bone splintered under the impact as the morbid mask shattered, along with the nose beneath it and the already off-balance gang-banger dropped like a pole-axed ox under the onslaught.
"Motherfuckin' pussy! That was fuckin' SAD!" Jason spit as he brought a heavy boot down on the throat of his fallen foe, savouring the wet crunch as cartilage yielded under his heel, crushing his throat with a single, vicious stomp. "You fags call yourself fuckin' SKULLS? Motherfucker's couldn't last five fuckin' minutes back in Paragon!"
Laughing out loud he looked up from his bloody handiwork to see 3 more of the Skulls charge towards him, each one either to drunk or too stupid to realise just how badly they were outmatched. Flicking his bowie knife over in his hand Jason dropped into an easy guard position and readied himself, just as the angry roar of gunfire filled the air and a single bullet whizzed past his ear, close enough for him to feel it, taking the lead skull in the eye, putting him flat on his back before either of his friends realised what had happened, to the accompanying sound of the babe's mad laughter.
He couldn't help but smile as he lunged forward, side-stepping a poorly executed stab and buried his own blade to the hilt in the gut of another foe, twisting it once for good measure.
"DAMN that babe is fucked up somethin' fierce! An' fuckin' smokin'!" He laughed to himself, pulling out his blade and letting the Skull drop just in time to see the last of the trio turn and run, in the face of certain, laughing death.
"Oh no you fuckin' don't you little necro-fag!"
Flipping his blade in his hand almost too fast for the eye to follow he pulled back his arm and threw the knife, burying the flying blade between the Skull's shoulders a fraction of a second after a bullet blew away the back of his skull.
Turning his head slightly he watched as she raised the smoking gun to full, inviting lips and suggestively blew the smoke from the barrel in an eerily sensual manner "Mine, bech!" she grinned back at him, holstering the twin ingrams as fast as she had made them appear.
Then she was in his arms, grinding hard against him, one hand yanking at his hair while the other cupped his groin aggressively, blood, death, sex and smoke spilling over from them both, mixing in their mouths as they kissed....
He was hot, covered in sweat, his head pounded, it felt like someone had thrown up in his mouth and his groin felt like it had been chafed raw.... and he felt great!
A few rays of light making their way through holes in the ceiling gave away both the dilapidated warehouse that she had called her "crib" and her equally sweat-soaked, equally naked, save for his red head-band, tied snugly around her left thigh, body pressed up tight against his in the narrow cot.
Amazingly enough, most of the details were still vividly clear in his mind, bringing another smile to his lips as he ran a hand over her curves taking in the full, and very appealing view, his his drug- and booze-fogged brain grappling with the one, minute detail that continued to elude him until it finally hit like a bolt from the blue...
"Dani....her name is Dani"
