Janus has received the call to meet the Tattooist...obviously there is a job waiting. The Tattooist isn't a huge fan of the big city so his trailer is parked in a vacant lot in Hanging Hills - near some biker bars in case he can get some extra business in. When Janus arrives, the Tattooist is sitting on the steps of his trailer with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Soft rock music seeps out through the open door and he hums along when his mouth is not occupied.
When he's called, he shows up. The roar of his GTO's engine dies down outside the trailer and the solid steel door slams shut. Out steps Janus and he ambles slowly over to where the Tattooist is holding court on the stoop. "Hey, old man." he greets with a friendly affection as he removes his sunglasses and tucks them into his pocket, "Thought I might not here from you for a while. Shit's been dry lately." simply an observation and not a complaint. At least, not much of one. "How's business? I assume you got some for me, yeah?" he asks, his Boston accent thick and unavoidably noticeable.
"Dry shit is a hell of a lot easier to get off your boot than wet shit" the Tattooist deadpans in reply before nodding to the last questions. "Yeah. Some local lady needs us to help recover a statue that got stolen from her. Some kind of Babylonian demon." He sighs softly, "One day people will be more interested in statues of bunnies." Plucking out a card from his shirt pocket he squints at it for a moment. "Pha Q'Poran...what the fuck kind of name is that. Anyway, guessing some cultists took it and want to bring it to life or some shit. And you won't be alone. Sounds like a whole bunch of Hunters will be gearing up for this one. Think you can handle it...if you're free."
Janus responds with a slight exhalation that serves as a laugh. "True." he rumbles in response then crouches down near the older man to listen to the task at hand. When the Tattooist finishes, he nods once. "Ayup, I got it. Whole bunch as in the Society...whatever it's called?" another solitary nod, "Whatever works. I don't mind some amateur assistance. I'm free, of course." there's a beat where he looks away then back over at the old man, "What's the pay? Guess it's in the contract. And Paha whatever is the client's name or the demon's?"
"That's the demon's name, you young fool." The Tattooist rolls his eyes and gently slaps Janus on the side of the head...perhaps not /too/ gently. "The client's name is Amelia Cossington-Smith and I'm not sure which one is easier to say. Some old biddy who has a collection of relics. This one got stolen in transit and she would like it back." A nod. "Yeah, the Society for the Uplifting of Humanity. And don't disparage 'em too much. One day they might save your hide. We've been working round here for a few hundred years so don't foul your house...understand?" He plucks out a roll of notes from another pocket and tosses it over. "Half now. Half after. You okay with ancient demons?"
Janus takes the slap as good-naturedly as he can, which means he just grunts a little and accepts the consequences of his question, "Christ, could have been a person's name. From, like...I don't know, Indonesia?" he shrugs, having absolutely no idea. "I'm not disparaging, I just didn't remember the full name. Far as I'm concerned it's a good idea and good for business. I come in looking like some badass professional, man. They look at me with awe, even the fucking Inquisition which suits me just fine. They know I can kick some ass with the help of the Lord's angels, well...more pay in it for me." Janus snags the money and tucks it into his pockets without looking. "Ancient demons, baby demons, the fuck do I care? Hopefully we'll just get the statue back and not have to worry about what's inside. It's like fucking Hellboy here. Jesus...but yeah, I'm good."
"Jesus Fucking Christ, will you stop using the Lord's name in vain" admonishes the Tattooist before rolling his eyes and taking a swig of beer. "You want one?" he asks, raising his bottle to show what he is talking about before nodding to a director's chair near the unlit barbeque. "Pull up a pew." A snort of amusement and a shake of his head. "Indonesia." A drag on his cigarette. "So who have you met so far?"
Janus actually chuckles as the old man finds some amusement in his suggestion of countries With a faint grunt he stands up and retrieves the chair, "I'll take a beer, sure." the feet of the chair drag and scrape across the ground until he's got it in place, whereupon he drops into it with a heavy plop. "Met the Butcher from the Inquisition. Seems old school Reverent, of course, but even toward me. Met a pretty little college girl Maiden. Fucking ridiculous, but she was in awe too." clearly Janus enjoys people being in awe, "As usual, I hand out my card and it brings all sorts of motherfuckers out of the woodwork. Let's see, met a Union fella. He needs some seasoning and some experience. Might be a little sloppy. Some southerner named Woody. Then some other pretty thing with a half-shaved head. A-something, Thule. About it for now."
The Tattooist leans back through the door and grabs a beer from the bar fridge located next to it - thinking ahead there. He tosses it over to Janus as he listens to all the people he has met. "Sounds like we got a varied bunch around here" he muses. "You do know Pride is a sin, right?" the Tattooist smirks at Janus. "A Thule? Okay...sounds like we got the brains covered at least. And you can expect Union to be like that. They got dragged into this more than most. Just remember we're here to take out the garbage not show off to our friends or people we want to sleep with."
"Damn, old man, I know why we're here. I'm not some fresh-faced new recruit." the complaint isn't overly dramatic, just mildly annoyed as he catches the beer and leans down to set the edge of the cap on the porch step. With a downward strike with the heel of his palm, he pops the top off and takes a long pull from the foaming bottle. "And I got plenty of sins, yet here I am with the blessing of the Lord," he lifts his beer up toward the heavens, "and his servants." and then gestures with it toward the Tattooist. "Pride, lust, wrath, greed. I got 'em all, holy man, but I'm not here to worry about my own transgressions. I'll let the priests worry about that while I'm fucking up demonspawn that don't belong here on this earthly plane What I'm saying is don't worry at all. I know what I'm doing."
"Well then" nods the Tattooist, "I shall now be known as 'The Old Man Who Shuts Up and Stops Hassling the Kids'. Fucking long name though." He raises his bottle in a toast. "To the Lord and his mysterious ways." Glass is clinked and beer drunk. "I hear its going to be out in the sticks. Might be a chance to make some noise but try not to..." He stops himself. "Sorry, you know what you're doing."
Janus grunts again and shakes his head after they clink the glass together, "Sorry, I'm being a jackass. Just too ornery for my own good. I'm an old man before my time. Don't mind me." head still shaking, he tilts his head back to guzzle down the remainder of his beer. "So, do you know who else is in on this one? From the other cells and compacts and all? They know about it too already? And we getting any reinforcements in soon? Not that I can't handle myself but it's nice to have some comrades that aren't the boss, you know?" he grins, teasing the old man a little. "Go on. Really. I'll stop being a dick."
"The day you stop being a dick, Janus, is when the good Lord himself is coming back for his encore" the Tattooist smirks before draining his beer. "Sounds like tomorrow there'll be some Union...some Romans...some Zeros. Probably others but I'm not God. I rely on gossip reaching my ears rather than hearing directly. A few of them were at the docks after it was stolen so they're following it up. You met this Chase guy yet?"
"Even then..." he trails off with a grin and rises slowly to slip past the seated man so he can grab another beer that he opens in the same way he opened the first. This time, Janus takes a little more time with the beer. "All right, then. Well, backwoods like you said sounds best. Less chance for collateral damage, more chance to go boom. Should bring a demo expert on up north if we got any." he suggests with a shrug before sitting down once more. "Haven't met Chase, nah. Just the four I mentioned. Heard his name a few times, though. What's his deal?"
"He sounds like an angry young man. There is resolution and there is anger...and anger is something we don't need. Anger makes mistakes and it puts others in danger" the Tattooist intones solemnly, "So just watch out for him, okay? And try not to make too much of a boom. This planet is losing enough forest every day without us blowing it up...though do show those cultists they aren't welcome. With extreme prejudice. Oh...and the client wants the statue back in one piece.
The angry-looking man nods as the old-looking man speaks on anger, the younger in obvious agreement. "Mindless anger is trouble. Focused and direct and controlled. Professional. That's the way to go." Janus sips on the beer until it's about half gone and considers quietly for a time, maybe a minute or two. "I'll get it back in one piece if I can. Hell, I wanna get paid so of course. Motherfuckers better not pull some stupid shit on that statue. Hopefully we can do some extreme prejudicing before they know we're coming. When does this shit every work out as planned, though?"
"When God wills it I guess" the Tattooist shrugs before looking up at the Heavens. "Anytime you're ready" he calls up to the Divine Being before returning to the comfort of beer and cigarettes. "You might have to take something bigger than your car though. Sounds like the statue is big and heavy - human sized at least. Or I can come through with the tow truck once you're done."
Janus nods and finishes off his beer, setting the empty down by the previous one, "Sure. Probably the tow truck if the fucking thing is that big. Can shove it in the back or something. I should get me a truck for this sorta thing, honestly. Maybe after this paycheck, yeah?" he shrugs and leans back in the director chair, closing his eyes. "I'll try to keep the kiddos in line and make sure no one gets their asses killed. We don't care about the cultists, I assume. I'll try not to pop any, but we'll have to see what happens."
"They made their choice" the Tattooist shrugs, "But try and catch one for interrogation. Might be other things out there they know about. And, of course, if they happen to be the local city council under their masks then people are going to notice them dead. Take care tomorrow."