Chatbox
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:51:15 You're just yellow
Saint

Pass out, make your nose bleed, puke, there are so many things that could get you out of ass
 Saint
07:49:53 and your just blue
someone save me from class, i've been watching presentations for 3 hours. it's for my final exam but i went first and we can't leave until all 35 of us are done
 The Tea Drinkers
07:49:45 Tea, Tea Queen
dang it. I was going to try to get him to 300 BE before Spring 1 when my next trainee ages up :P
-WP Click-
 SunGaze
07:49:25 Sunny/Alastair/Sam
Zera,
Haha, yeah. Same.
 Saint
07:48:48 and your just blue
nux
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:47:53 You're just yellow
Saint 🐠
 Saint
07:47:11 and your just blue
hey chat
 Apothecary
07:47:00 Medicinally Autistic
I have one last question before i do this ;-; I'm so excited
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:45:55 You're just yellow
I was honestly trying to get rid of them for the space. I have litters on the way.
 Zeraphia
07:44:37 Vah is less okay
XDD I usually bone most of the ones I get. If I find one that's kind of good or desirable and they don't get picked up after a day or so, I'll yeet them to the sanctuary
 SunGaze
07:43:16 Sunny/Alastair/Sam
Zera,
I was so confident, too ;-;
And yeah free range is good. I honestly just retire because either way the ones I retire sanctuary wouldn't take and also it'll give me bones.
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:41:51 You're just yellow
I usually keep one that I absolutely adore and bone the rest because I like the shop
 Zeraphia
07:40:37 Vah is less okay
XDD

I've just gathered information honestly.

I find a when in doubt moment is a sanctuary moment.
 SunGaze
07:39:59 Sunny/Alastair/Sam
I need to be here more often 😑
 SunGaze
07:38:35 Sunny/Alastair/Sam
Oh nevermind he's a hero. Listen to Zera.
 Zeraphia
07:38:13 Vah is less okay
Nux

Ahh, hmm... maybe yeet him to the sanctuary
 SunGaze
07:38:06 Sunny/Alastair/Sam
Nux,
To die. He is pretty, but his cp and vitals are not great. Depends on what you want for a wolf. Looks and rarity and breeding (since G5) would be good. But I'm not an expert and it depends on what you want for a wolfo.
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:37:42 You're just yellow
Vah

But his brother...

-WP Click-
 Zeraphia
07:36:12 Vah is less okay
... he may live. He's a hero, 40+ rarity AC and at least it looks like a HW.
 ~♥Nux♥~
07:34:42 You're just yellow
-WP Click-

To live, or to die.

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Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 12:16 PM


M I S E R Y

Darkseeker
 
Posts: 1806
#2890285
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Links
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Sign Ups: click here
Discussion: click here
RP Thread: you are here
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Starter Post:
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As of currently, the cops are working to find out where the Lone Riders are staying and what to do next to take them down, unexpectedly. The Lone Riders are either terrorizing or they can have a meeting deciding if they should stay in town or disperse.
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Name | Age | Gender | Role | Mentions

Edited at May 17, 2023 12:36 PM by M I S E R Y
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 03:56 PM


Former Pack

Neutral
 
Posts: 0
#2890394
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Victoria

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

Victoria Deiux Desrosiers || 26 Yrs || Female || Gang Leader || Mentions: NPC, Gang

━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━

In one of the darker alley-ways of the town, a pair of figures could be seen walking down, deeper and deeper into the darkness. One, a woman. The other, a large and intimidating man. The woman was walking behind him, forcing him forward. To many, that would be appaling, as she was only 5'8, and this guy had to be 6'2 and three times the size of her. However, looking closer, she was holding a blade to his back, forcing him to walk on, poking the narrow knife deeper into his skin with every step.

He grunted, "You won't get away with this you bit- ARGH!"

The woman was silent, stopping in her tracks and jabbing the blade into his back, barely missing the spinal bones. "Now, what did I say about speaking? Last time I checked, dogs don't speak." He almost fell to his knees, jerking forward as he felt the pressure and pain shooting up and down his spine. Without a word or hesitation, she began to walk around him with small and easy steps. Firmly, she held the blade in place, and begun to drag it through his fat flesh. To her surprise, the man was still standing, but she could see that he'd fall to his knees sooner or later. He was yelling in pain, but she placed her hand firmly over his mouth, giving him a dangerous stare. Stopping directly infront of the man, the blade was still in her hand, but now it was infront of his stomach, barely penetrating his insides. She could see how his jaws were quivering, sweat trickling down his rough and course skin. "Now, sit." The raven-haired woman tore the serrated-blade out from his skin, causing him to cry in pain before falling to his knees. "Shh, shh.. now, I'm holdin' up a very important meeting because of you, and I don' wish to be any later than what I already will be," she tilted her head to the side, loose strands of hair following her lead, "Now you may Speak. But, the truth." As she spoke, she held the knife loosely up to his chin, tilting his head upwards to look at the sky. He was silent, unable to speak as his bodily fluids spewed slowly from his wounds. Victoria urged him on, pressing the blade into the bone of his chin, only then did he speak. But he no longer was quivering in pain or fear, he had a smile on his face."Just wanted to know what a darlin' like you-" before he could finish his sentence, she jerked the blade into his bottom jaw, swaying it side to side before viciously tearing it out of him, watching his body fall with a loud thud.

"Nobody calls me "Darlin'"."

With a disgusted expression, she shook the bloodied blade side-to-side before leaning down and wiping the serrated-knife on his trousers, giving it a nice and fresh look. With a swift move of her hand, she twirled the knife in her hands before setting it into the sheath that was tied to her belt on her left-side. While looking at the lifeless corpse, her insides churned. "Disgusting," she muttered underneath her breath. She was about to look away, but a shine of silver caught her eye. Looking downwards, her eyes fixated onto a silver ring on the man's index finger. Leaning down with a quick swoop, she grabbed the ring, and slipped it off his finger, and sliding it onto her pinky. "Thanks."

Walking out from the alley, she was walking along a few porches on the side of the dirt-road. Her pace was quick, as she was in a hurry to get back to the camp. She was late to her own meeting, lovely. Sighing, she grabbed a lighter out from her back pocket, while simultaneously yanking a pack of cigarette's off of some poor saps porch chair and lighting one. As she lit the cigarette, a large black stallion came into view at the very end of the road, fully tacked up, and nickering towards his owner, stamping his hooves impatiently. "My beautiful boy," she smiled faintly, "Miss me?"

━━━

Thundering hoofbeats could be heard from outside the camp, growing closer and closer. The beats were slowing down by the minute until a black stallion emerged, carrying Victoria on his back.

Stroking the horse's neck as they entered the camp, Victoria whispered, "That's my boy." She led her horse, Church, over towards the hitching post near some of the other horses, and hopped down quickly, tying him up to the post. She could see his eyes focused on her, waiting. "I'll settle you down after I'm finished, alright bud? It's won't take long." She patted his shoulder, before dusting herself off, tucking her shirt back into his pants and making herself look presentable. As it was a very warm morning already, she was wearing the appropriate attire.

For a shirt, she wore a black buttonup long-sleeve, her sleeves rolled up neatly just below her elbows. As for her trousers, they were tight, and a smoky-black color, held up by a silver & black belt around her waist, the bottom of her shirt tucked into said-belt. She was also wearing a pair of black riding boots with thick heels. Gosh, looks like she was just at a funeral. But no, this is something she wears quite often. It's easier to piece things together to make them all pretty when they are all one color, specifically black. Originally, her hair was loose, but before her ride back, to avoid hair whipping her face, she pulled it into a high pony-tail, leaving a few locks on the sides of her head. After finishing dusting herself off, she used her thumb to wipe off her scarred lip, feeling a dried yet sticky substance. Pulling her hand back, she saw that there was dried blood now on her thumb. "Bastard," she muttered.

Walking into camp, she had her arms crossed over her chest, her spurs clinking her boots as she walked. "Now," she spoke loudly, "When I'm standing in the middle of this damned camp, I better see everyone's battered asses there," Vic announced sternly.

Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 04:01 PM


M I S E R Y

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Posts: 1806
#2890399
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Estelle Angeline-Elayne Louvé
25 | Female | Sheriff | M: Cops(ind.), Riders(ind.), Open
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It has been around a year and a half already. A year and a half since she had escaped the merciless gang known as The Lone Riders. Who would've thought that she would go from a violent gang to the town's sheriff. Hee main priority was taking that gang down. As much as they seem like any other gang, they were dangerous. And they turn people into monstrous beings. She would know first hand. The gang is quick. Always moving around. She won't stop until she disbands them. Puts them away. Hopefully for a long time. But she knows she has to play it smart. It was up to Estelle to save the town but she was stuck. And a part of her felt like she was failing. But Estelle wasn't raised to be a quitter. The Lone Riders laugh at her dedication to tear them a part. Estelle has uncontrollable anger towards them, starting with the leader.
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Estelle was seen already at the station. She was sitting at her desk, papers laid out everywhere. Her face distributed the feeling of stress. She had a large board behind her with pictures of each gang member and possible locations. Estelle cupped her face in her hands and sighed. It would only be a few moments before her fellow cops came in for duty. She couldn't let them see her like this. As much as Estelle paints a brave face, she is distraught with her failure to capture the gang. She wandered her eyes over towards her computer, seeing the reports that she had been making. Estelle was getting calls daily. Frantic calls. She knew she had to do something before the gang relocates. And she can't let that happen.
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Just as she was about to continue her writing, the phone started ringing. Another one. Estelle was quick to answer the phone, another frantic caller. "Yes. Yes I understand ma'am. We are doing everything we can." Estelle's voice was as calm as it could possibly be, hoping that would help the caller to calm down. Estelle hated when callers would be too frantic. Sometimes she couldn't understand what they were saying. However, their actions and reasonings are completely justified. The phone call was short and Estelle placed the phone back down. She angrily got out of her chair before walking over to the board. Her eyes examining each picture and note one by one. She had been staring at the leader's picture longer than the others. Victoria Desrosiers. Estelle needed to take her down first. Taking the leader down will make everything else easier. If she had decided to start with a normal gang member, she would have the whole gang on her ass. But what if she had the leader?
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The sheriff paced around her office, growing very impatient. She was just thankful that she had a reliable team of cops. And her deputy. Estelle respected her deputy just as much as he respected her. The two have history. History with the Lone Riders. Estelle felt especially close with him as he understands her hatred for the gang. Estelle took a seat and began typing on her computer. She opened the maps and started scanning for possible hidden locations that would need investigated. The papers scattered around her office didn't help with her stress. There were tons of reports, incidents, missing persons, etc. Her anger grew as she tried everything she could to gain some sort of intel that may help her in her investigation.
.
To no surprise, some of the reports became too much for Estelle to handle. They were gruesome. She couldn't help but think about these victims' families. How they must be feeling. Estelle couldn't believe that she was once a part of something so vicious. The images of crime scenes played over and over in her mind and she couldn't get them out. She had started to lose sleep over this. It had begun to affect her in the worst ways possible. Estelle tried to distract herself by attempting to organize her desk. She was seen putting reports in confidential folders and stacking them on top of each other. Her expressions were very monotone as she was completing this, due to the fact that she had so many reports. This was an ongoing investigation that needed solved.
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 09:45 PM


Astrolistic

Lightbringer
 
Posts: 770
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Vega

─•~♦~•─ ─•~♦~•─

23 | Female | Lone Rider | Mentions: NPC, Victoria (ind.)

The small store had a flickering light. One woman within clearly looked irritated by the electrical fault. The woman tossed her dark hair out of her blue hues and looked upon the scene inside the grocery store. The air lingered with the smell of fresh fruit mixed with the scent of death and demise. Food cabinets had been toppled over, and a cabbage rolled across the ground, where the woman placed her foot on it, stopping its path to freedom. Her eyes wandered the shop, looking for any sign of danger or living beings within close range. Of course, there was none, but she’d had a few close calls over the years.

The Lone Phantom would not be pleased if I made an ass of my fun little outing. Vega thought, amusement spreading on her face. She knew that she needed to get out, so she looked over the scene one more time, before nabbing a gun she had found from behind the counter and placing it in her victim’s hand.

“They won’t believe that he did this himself, but why not stir things up.” She murmured, staring down on the purple face of her prey. She had swiftly strangled him with her lasso before untying it and reattaching it to her large belt. The man had given no fight to her demands and had given her a golden watch from his wrist and a wad of cash. It was a small treasure, but she knew that she may as well take what she had killed him for. This was just a hobby, but nothing went scot-free. She always made sure to claim a prize at the end of her shenanigans.

Striding outside, she called to Ace, her smokey-black stallion who was across the road, nibbling on a tuft of grass. He trotted over to her and she jogged alongside him for a few strides, placing her lasso more firmly on her belt for the ride back. Then she jumped off of both feet and swung up over his back, landing in her comfortable western saddle (albeit with a few trick-enabling adjustments) and gathered up the reins to head for home.

In a cloud of dust, she exited the town and headed along the rugged path back to the Lone Rider’s camp. Ace was enjoying every stride, and lengthened his neck as he put on some speed. Vega was dressed in light and stretchy denim jeans, which came over her brown boots with high tops. The boots had the traditional heel and curved wooden sole and were excellent for riding. Then also sported small spurs that were attached by a leather buckle, but these were more for decoration than to use on Ace. She also wore a marron, orange and blue shirt that slightly matched her horse’s tack. On her head usually sat a cream western hat with a dark brown leather band, but today she had just her hair slowing out behind her. Vega had not felt the need to wear her hat to this particular adventure.

Upon her arrival at camp, she spotted that Victoria had also just arrived. The gang leader tied up her horse and whispered a few words to him before calling her usual, gruff greeting to the Lone Riders. Vega smiled at Victoria’s words and hastily tied Ace up before striding over and taking a seat on a nearby felled log.


Edited at May 17, 2023 09:47 PM by Astrolistic
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 10:43 PM


Spellbound

Lightbringer
 
Posts: 22807
#2890476
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Florence Padma-Poviyemo Desrosiers
━━━━━━ ━━━━━━
" The Lotus Flower "

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━
22 | Male | Lone Rider | Mentions : NPCs, Ryder

"Now, you listen to me Alexander, " the soft spoken voice of Florence came out, unusually aggressive - and not to mention how close he was to the person he was talking to. If anything they were so close - the smaller male was is in what could be called " kissing distance " . He was very adamant about what he was saying, " I spent three months tracking this mark down, and I don't need you mucking things up. And I swear if you do - I will have your head." He hissed while rather aggressively stabbing at his chest - hands on his hips in a sassy manner, with a no-nonsense look on his face as he looked up at his taller male companion. " Now, follow me, " he spoke as he turned on his heels, his long inky tresses whipping behind him as he moved. The long hair being in a long and neat French braid with a hat on top of it. Their was a sway in his hips as he confidently strode to his mark ; The Lazy Mule Saloon, or better know as the hide-away for Jack, The Butcher - a rather shady businessman and serial killer. There was quite a nice bounty of $9,000 on his head, apparently he had made the mistake of killing some paramour to a big-time Italian Mobster who was bigger than him in the crime scene. And Florence, or as his moniker was, The Lotus , had been personally asked to take on this mission. And the quicker he got it done - he was promised a bonus if he did it earlier than expected, and not to mention even more money for bringing any files for black mail, and then ownership of the territory he would be stealing after the death of this crime boss. It seemed like a pretty sweet deal for him and his gang.

" Now what do you want, little lady ? " came a gruff and teasing masculine voice, of one of the guards at the door, the man casually lit his cigar - yet, his eyes were still trained on Florence. Florence had to suppress an angry growl at the jab, just because he was pretty didn't mean he was a lady. And he didn't take kindly to the jab.

"Well sir, I was hoping to get an audience with your boss, Jack - The Butcher . " he said rather boldly, and he pulled out a hidden gun - and fiddled with it, " and another thing - I ain't no lady, so how's about it? You gon' tell your boss I'm here or will I haff' to announce myself!" He said tilting his head, his eyes big and innocent - yet there was an underlying danger there. Something telling you that you should tread lightly when dealing with him.

The creaking of the old seat the man was sitting could be heard as he stood, a sly grin on his face - his brown eyes looking more interested in Florence than he'd like. " Well with that face of yours - not to mention, that bo-" before he could finish that sentence Florence shot a warning shot . . . right through the top of his hat.

"Try again."

" What I mean is. You're such a pretty boy, shouldn't you be doing some other type of work . More like putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use. " the male said with a sneer, yet it was replaced with a yelp as a second bullet was fired - this time grazing his skull.

" You're on your second strike. Three strikes and you're out. "

" What the hell is goin' on out here Jonas." Came a displeased shout, yet it had more class than whatever the brown-eyed man, named Jonas was talking. And a burly man in a suit came out, followed by three other men. From the steam pressed suit - the oil-slicked hair, and the many precious jeweled rings on his finger ; this was no doubt Jack, The Butcher. The stern man adjusted his tie, and then fixated his gaze on Florence who was looking a bit annoyed at the moment at the antics of Jonas.

" What seems to be the problem, er, uh- sir? " Jack said placing his hands together, his ringed fingers glimmering in the sunlight.

Before Florence could even respond - Jonas was talking, "This little pansy think he's man enough to enter your saloon, boss." And he gave a scoff, "he's such a feminine little cunt, how about you make him like one of your girls. I'm sure you'd bring in a killing for how many people would pay for a time with a pretty thing like hi-" However, his words were cut short as Florence now fully done with his bullshit didn't think twice about shooting him between the eyes. The males body going limp and falling over the railing he had been leaning on.

"You should really choose better underlings, " he said in that soft voice of his as he softly blew away the smoke that softly came from the muzzle of his gun. " They're highly dispensable." And he then noticed the look of shock turn to one of interest. The man rubbing his chin and the he snapped his finger as if getting an idea.

"How'se about this, you beat my men and I'll get you a seat in my saloon." He proposed, " The only reason I'm doing this is because I think you'd be a great addition for my . . . endeavors." Only if you live long enough, Florence thought as he gave a falsely charming smile.

" I'm game " was all he said, "now is this me knocking them out or do I have to kill them?"

"Knocking them out is all that's needed." Came the simple response and Florence gave a nod as the three guys walked down, and he shoved his gun in Ryder's hands. " Hold this " he said a bit forcefully as he walked to where the fight would occur.

The man he was fighting looked to be about 6'4 and he had a well-built stature. It was obvious he didn't skip out on his physical fitness - and Florence got into a stance as he narrowed his eyes at the man - before Florence could make a move , the man let out an ungodly scream before charging him. Florence matched his energy and charged but once close enough, he quickly dove down, and using his legs - wrapped around him like a python , knocking him off balance - and then using his legs to firmly secure his position - he had even managed nick the hidden knife from his boot and hold it dangerously close to his eye as a threat. And then he pressed the blade near his neck. A soft hum coming from him as he tilted his head.

" Naughty boy. " he chided, " hiding weapons - thinking I wouldn't find them. Too bad you lost so quickly, you might have been able to use it. Buy now you can't." He murmured softly as he removed himself from him. The man only gave a defeated sat beside his grandparents.

" Here's another one who's be willing to fight you. "

This time it was a guy about his size, possibly an inch or so taller. And he was also well-built, but more on the leaner side like Florence. Florence have a small nod of acknowledgment to him ; and the fight began. The other was quick to get in Florence's face, trying to trip him with a sweeping kick - but Florence used the momentum to flip over him, and twirl and aimed his leg high and was aiming for the head but make moved before he could get that hit. And Florence landed on his feet rather dissatisfied with the lack of contact. Then he was thrown for a loop when punches where being thrown - and so Florence matched his tempo ; blocking and striking as he could and then he notice a loose pice of fabric and he took advantage of it and grabbed in and wrapped his hands around it Al- the strings pulling the male closer and Florence gives a cocky smile, "Hi." He teased before harshly kneeing him in the stomach. Causing the male to groan, and Florence elegantly sidestepped him and let him hit the ground face down .

Florence raised a brow and put his hands on his his in a taunting manner. "Anyone else's have the guts to be find their faces on the ground ? " his voice sweet and menacing as he leaned forward - as if taunting, no begging someone to try him. His eyes would appear like molten gold in the rays of sunlight as he coyly giggles - and he could see the men step away at the sight, looking at their boss for answers. And he swayed slightly on his feet and hummed bored as he awaited a response .

"Does this mean we can come in?" He said with a bit of a flirtatious and cocky smile - and he moved towards Ryder and grabbed his arm and drug him towards the stairs and to the awaiting doors . And he stopped in front Jack, and gave him a look as if awaiting permission

"Well I never caugh your name, jewel. " Jack said, his full attention on Florence. And Florence could only give a flirtatious grin and hold held his hand out, and Jack took it and placed a kiss on it.

"The name is Sage, darling. Don't you forget it." He said said with a wink and then moved to walk inside the bar. The chatter was loud and incomprehensible - and he went to the bar. And he ordered himself a Shirley Temple. And he comfortably went to the back of the bar. And he sat on a chair that was maybe just a tad bit too tall for him, but he sat in it anyway and sipped his drink. The drink tasted odd to him, but he ignored it because it didn't seem that important.

However, and hour later he was starting to feel warm. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and fanned himself slightly, not to mention the slight sweat forming on his forehead. And his vision was being distorted slightly. Fuck, had he been spiked? He couldn't help but notice how pretty Ryder looked. "It's so hot in here." He murmured as he leaned on the table a soft huff coming from him. And he could feel his throat getting dry, and he practically guzzled down the water he was having. And he kept using his hand to fan himself.


Edited at May 19, 2023 09:27 PM by Spellbound
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 17, 2023 11:37 PM


Cereal

Darkseeker
 
Posts: 8952
#2890496
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Selova

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

24 | Female | Lone Rider | Member | Mentions: NPCs

"Flush!"

"Full House!"

"Four of a Kind!"

The three men practically hollered, greedily wanting the $2000 jackpot waiting for them in the middle of the table. Eyes of green, brown, and grey stared at each other with hostility, their fingers twitching as they itched for the trigger of their pistols. The tension at the poker table was high. The entire saloon felt it as they quietly murmured amongst themselves, and the pianist ceased his playing. Awkward coughs happen here and there, nervous glances moving to the table that's hosting the game. One wrong move could ignite the flames, so it would be best if someone is strong enough to smother it before it erupts.

Selova wasn't that kind of person. She would happily toss a match after pouring oil and sprinkling a bit of flammable fabric into the mixture of chaos. The corner of her lips twitched as she nearly smiled, yet one of the men noticed it. "Something funny, lass," his tone heavy with a Scottish accent as he questioned the woman, drumming his fingers on the table to give his fingers something to do. The other two turned their heads toward her, the grey-eyed man huffing as he angrily sipped from his glass of whiskey, "She shouldn't be laughing, considering she's been on a constant losing streak these past three rounds." The third man nodded in agreement, throwing Selova a smug grin. She's not bothered by their antics, only finding it amusing and fueling her childish ideals further. "I suggest you shush with your comments before you regret it," she lightly replied, tapping her cards against the table with a devilish gleam in her eyes of Artic blue as they glared at her suspiciously.

Sel tossed her cards carelessly on the table, revealing her deck, and gradually leaned into her seat. They gazed at the cards, their mouths agape, and their complexation paled. She had an Ace, King, Queen, Joker, and Ten. That means she has a "-Royal Flush." Selova had been purposely throwing the game to prolong it, making the cocky and all too eager to toss their money for a chance of winning big. They played into her hands all too well, but she wasn't pleased with such a result. She found it all too easy, considering they were arrogant, drunk, and addictive gamblers: such easy prey with extravagant rewards. Sel hungrily shoves the cash into an empty potato sack, ensuring to tie it up tightly so it doesn't bust open.

The man with the brown orbs sighed in defeat before standing up, reaching his hand over the table to offer a handshake. "I'll be damned. Well played," he wasn't thrilled with his loss but was showing excellent sportsmanship. Selova smiled in response, placing her hand on his head. "Thank you for such a compliment. You know how to make a lady blush." As they shook their conjoined hands, a bunch of cards poured from her sleeves, and the entire bar went deathly silent as the patrons' eyes turned to them. The three men's gaze was fixated on the pile of cards that escaped their prison. Meanwhile, Selova cleared her throat, giving them a strained smile, ignoring the sudden existence of the cards she tucked away, "How did they get in there?"

As her eyes were settled on them, she noticed them reaching for the guns on their hips, and she sighed as she knew where it was going. Sel flips the table with a hand, the furniture landing on the three men, and she whips out her pistol. As the three were distracted trying to get the table off, she shot them between the eyes. With her actions, the saloon consisted of screams of surprise and anger, causing Selova to wince in annoyance. When the bartender reached for his gun behind the counter, she shot him in the chest, then ducked behind the flipped poker table. She was facing the window with her back pressed against the table, listening to gunfire and dodging bullets that came her way. "This isn't how I planned my night," her eyes dart around for a way to escape until they rested on the window. She grabbed one of the men's guns, then tossed the gun over the table. Her aim was pristine as she hit someone in the head and knocked them unconscious. With most of them distracted by the man's unconsciousness, Selova moved from behind cover and leaped out the window while covering her face with the filled sack.

She landed on top of the broken glass, a pained groan leaving her lips, and she rolled to her side to face the saloon. Pieces of glass shards sliced her clothes and skin, and the wounds stung like Hell. Her abdomen screamed at her for the pain she caused while blood steadily crept from her new injuries. When she gazed back at the building to see who else was coming, the woman angrily slammed the glass-covered floor in self-loathing, cutting the skin on her hand, "Fucking damn it, Selova! You dumbass!" The entrance to the salon was a few inches from the window. She could've run out the damn doors instead of pulling that stunt. Sel staggered to her feet and dashed off to the spot where she left her steed.

She was shot at more, a few bullets grazing her attire and skin. Selova whistled sharply, summoning her loyal mount to escape from this situation. "Blackjack! Come!" She shouted, her eyes darting around the area for her horse. Disappointed anger riddled her mind with the disappearance of her companion, "Cursed horse," she hissed, ducking into an alleyway to find some cover from her pursuers. Selova hunkers behind a barrel full of water, squishing herself against the wall of the general store. "Well, if I die. At least I die with the money." She chuckled at her poor joke, checking out her gun's condition.

"Four bullets left, and I left the ammo in the saddle bags. Ugh," she hissed at her poor decisions, "nice job Selova." She was about to continue with her rambling when a voice called out to her, "I see you, you lying bitch! Get out here!" Sel groans, then raises her hands above her head to show she has surrendered. "Get up and drop the gun before I blast you!" The woman got to her feet and dropped the gun on the ground, keeping her hands in the air. "Alright. You got me." She replied casually, her face holding no hint of fear or regret. "Arrest me. Shoot me. I don't care," she shrugged, which surprised the man holding a shotgun. "Um...alright?" As he moved closer to Seloca, a shadowy figure appeared behind him. Recognizing the being, the woman smiled joyously. "Hello, Blackjack," she replied sweetly to the thing standing behind the man, who then turned around to see who she was talking to.

"Get him." The horse lunged at the man, knocking him down using his chest, then used his hooves to stomp on him until he stopped moving. Selova rushes to her horse, mounting her steed quickly after picking up her gun, and gives his neck a few loving pats. "Thank you, boy. I'll give you fresh carrots and hay as a reward." Sel glares at the man on the ground with disgust, "Geesh. You nearly turned that poor lad into wine. Remind me not to get on your bad side." Sel tugged on the reins and rode out of the alley with the sack over her shoulder. Many people have guard dogs to protect them, while a few have an attack horses. Sel was one of the few; honestly, she was grateful to have such a fearsome, violent beast as a companion, even though he's a jerk sometimes. "Now, time for me to turn in this cash to my beloved valkyrie."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Mentions: Vega (ind.) and Victoria (dir.)

Selova awoke with a jolt when she heard her girlfriend summoning the gang to a meeting. The blonde-haired woman groaned in annoyance, still exhausted and in pain from last night. "Let me sleep, damn it!" She shouted back to her boss, dropping her head back into the pillow. Selova smothered herself with the pillow and mumbled into it before lifting her head to take a whiff of fresh, horse-dung air. She got up from her bed, knowing Victoria would thrash her if she didn't get out of bed, using her fingers to push her messy hair back out of her eyes, "I'm not the one scooping the horses' shit either!" Selova had already untasked herself from one of the camp's chores, something she usually does.

Her body ached as it was covered in bruises and fresh stitches, which she handled herself. Selova was deadbeat tired from last night that she tossed her shoes and pants to the side and then slept in her tattered shirt. Not wanting to look like a hot mess, she slipped on clean pair of blue and brown saddle pants, then took off her shirt from yesterday. Lazily throwing on a t-strapped white shirt, grey socks, and black worn-down boots with haggard spurs. She ignored her black gambler hat on the bedside table and hurried out of the tent to see what the meeting was about. Selova noticed Vega approaching their leader and gave her a curt nod to greet her while her legs carried her to Vic.

"Hello, my little star," her tone rich with lust and adoration as she was fixated on the raven-haired woman, "missed me so?" Her hands went around the woman's waist and pulled her towards her, kissing her on the temple, then tailed it down to her neck. Selova nipped the surface of her skin, not too hard to cause much pain but enough to leave a mark before pulling back. "That's your punishment for taking forever to return to me," She whispered mischievously in her ear before reaching one of her hands around to tug the hair tie out, watching as her locks fell elegantly past her shoulders.

She grabs a small strand of her girlfriend's hair, then presses it against her lips to give it small yet loving kisses, "No one gave you too much trouble, my beloved?" She questioned, twirling Vic's hair around her index finger, gently tugging it. Without waiting for a response, she leaned forward and settled a brief, passionate kiss on her lips. "I'll quit distracting you for right now. Go ahead with the meeting." She gave her a mocking bow before going over to a table to sit. Selova rested her back against the chair, crossing her legs together as she settled them on the table.


Edited at May 19, 2023 03:23 PM by Tamesis
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 18, 2023 08:12 PM


Overthink101

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Ghazi Antara Harib | 24 | M | Deputy | Mentions; Estelle (Ind/Dir), Cops (Ind), Riders (Ind), Open.

Outfit; https://postimg.cc/gallery/ScbTHDJ

-

Walking into the station, knowing he wasn’t the first one there was… Well, Ghazi wasn’t really a fan. He preferred being the first to arrive and last to leave, easier to oversee everyone’s activities. Easier to keep track of everything. Easier to make sure everything was running smoothly. Now, he hadn’t woken up late by any means today. He’d actually gotten up earlier than usual, which was saying something given how early he got up anyways, but he’d taken longer getting ready than he had… Ever? Basically. He couldn’t remember the last time it had taken him as long as it did today to get ready.

--

Regardless, he wasn’t a big fan of seeing signs that others were already here. And there were definitely signs that Estelle was already here. Better than anyone else, he wouldn’t lie about that, but he still would’ve preferred getting here first. Besides, if Stella was here first then that meant she was probably pacing herself into a ten feet hole in the ground in her office over the Riders. And dealing with a worried, angry Estelle was never fun. It was another reason he always tried to get to the station first; so he could deal with the influx of calls that always came in the morning, so he could organize the cases they had and make sure the most gruesome of which got to his desk before she saw them, so he could make sure the station ran as smoothly as possible. An out of mind sheriff was almost never productive, and they really didn’t have time to spare.

--

Which meant he needed to get into her office and calm her down a bit before the rest of the officers got there. Without missing a beat, he opened the door of the station and stepped inside, closing it just loud enough that Stella would be able to hear it from her office. His pace was brisk, just as sharp as ever, as he made his way over to her office. With his boots clicking against the wooden floor with each step, he opened the door to her office without pause, taking in the scene before he’d even closed the door behind him.

--

Papers, files, and cases scattered around the room with Estelle slowly making her way around her desk; cleaning and organizing the mess there with movements that spoke of her anger even when her face stayed rather impassive. The door closed quietly behind him, still managing to break the silence, and his ever present grimace was only broken by him raising an eyebrow at the sheriff.

--

Ghazi stared her down for a moment, sighed, and then spoke. “You look like shit.” As he spoke, he started on his way towards her desk, picking up some of the papers that had managed to find a way to the floor. He placed the papers neatly on her desk, crossing his arms across his chest as he took in her tired face. His grimace deepened, narrowing his gaze as he criticized, “You might look worse than that, actually. When was the last time you slept?

--

He was well aware of how hypocritical he was being. But he was used to working and functioning with minimal sleep, he’d been doing so for years longer than Stella had been. So he, understandably, was allowed some room to be hypocritical while still being taken seriously. He shifted a bit, moving so he could look at the screen of her computer as he continued, tone sounding just as mildly annoyed and apathetic as the rest of what he’d said. “Did you at least eat something, drink some coffee?

--

The screen showed maps, no doubt places that Estelle wanted to check out to see if they’d find the gang there. A glance at the files showed that they were all about the Riders too. His eye caught sight of a rather gruesome one sitting close to the sheriff, and he huffed in slight frustration. Mostly towards himself for not getting into the station first. Regardless, he allowed his arms to go to his sides, hands going to the pockets of his jeans. He looked at Estelle through the corner of his eye, “Look, I get that you want to find and stop them as soon as possible, so do I. But even if we’re all at our best when we find them?

--

He took in a heavy breath, ignoring the slight pain starting to build up at the back of his throat. As much as he hated to be the bearer of bad news, he’d accepted that role years ago and didn’t have any problem in being the one to say the hard truths. Really, the only reason he’d paused at all was because of the stupid pain that speaking still caused, even months after getting back. But he couldn’t really let it stop him from his role, his job, so he continued. “We’re still outnumbered, Stella. There’s only.. What? Six of us here? And I can tell you now, not all of them are ready for that kind of run-in. And, frankly, neither are you right now. The others are going to need their sheriff at her best when we go, and I don’t quite recall this being your best.

--

He looked at the mess on her desk again, picking up the file that had caught his eye earlier to look through it as he continued, clearing his throat minimally to try and ease some of the growing discomfort. “We have to be smart about this. We can’t rush this to the point that finding them means nothing when we wouldn’t win. If we go in when we aren’t ready, we aren’t at our best, there’s a chance we’d lose. There’s a chance we’d lose more than just them getting away. And if we all die then the town’s defenseless against them, and if we don’t die? Then the group will just relocate, and we’ll have even more on our plate. Being at our best is just as much a priority as finding them.

--

The pictures in the file were gruesome, he couldn’t deny that. He wouldn’t deny that. He hated what he’d once been a part of. Of what he, himself, had done in the past. A year and a half was a long time, he knew that. But it didn’t feel that long ago. It didn’t even feel like it’d been a week ago. He wasn’t even sure how much he remembered from that time though. What he was sure of? He’d seen even worse in some of the files he’d made sure never reached Estelle’s desk or gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, didn’t respect her to see them. He just knew how much her conscience weighed on her, how empathetic she could be, how much the scenes would affect her. It was just better for him to see them, better for his wrathful indifference to be fed instead of her soul to be weighed on more. Instead of her conscience weighing down and making her think of families affected and what she had been a part of… She was probably a better person than he was for that. Scratch that, she was definitely a better person than he was. For more than just that reason.

--

Looking through the file currently in his hand, he hoped that she hadn’t gotten around to going through it herself. It might’ve not been as bad as some of what he kept off of Estelle’s desk, but it definitely would’ve been one that he grabbed to make sure Stella didn’t. The pictures didn’t leave much up to the imagination, at least. It was actually fairly straightforward, simple dismemberment. There were obvious signs of torture too. If he had to wager a guess, it was either Selova or Victoria. The Beast or The Lone Phantom. No matter who had done it though, he didn’t know if Estelle had already looked at this one. It’d be a failure on his part if she had.

--

Glancing away from the quick looking over of the file he was holding, his gaze went to Estelle again with a small sigh. “We got to start training the others harsher. I’ll probably stick Santos on them for gunmanship, Officer Bea especially. Really, Officer Bea still needs a lot of training in general. I might need to talk to Officer Amos about her training, I know they’re family but he can’t go easy on her. They’re lucky that I’m letting him handle as much of her training as I am anyways…” He tsked in mild annoyance, he certainly never had the same luxury, “What do you think, Stella?


Edited at May 19, 2023 03:42 PM by Overthink101
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 19, 2023 05:22 PM


Lost Memories

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Amos Fidel Karagiannis | 28 | Demi-Male | Demisexual Panromantic - Ambi | Cop | Mentions: Bea, Estelle, Ghazi, Cops (ind.), Riders (ind.), Open

Amos woke up early that morning, as usual, and, as usual, his sister was running late. The older gave his sister five minutes, counting in his head as the seconds passed.

Rolling his eyes in half-annoyance, half-amusement, Mos walked down the hall and tapped on Bea's door, hearing shuffling and her muted voice from behind.

"Yeah, coming, sorry!"

Amos chuckled softly and shook his head. "It's alright, but hurry! My guess is the Riders are causing chaos already, we'll need all hands on deck!"

"Yep, got it!"

Bea appeared a second later, looking slightly disheveled. She wore a white tank-top, covered by a light jacket, long brown pants, tall boots, and, of course, her gun on its holster. He short black hair was up in a messy ponytail and her pale cheeks were slightly flushed from rushing around.

"Ready!"

Amos grinned. "Right, then let's get going."

They headed out to their horses, preparing them for the short ride to the station. Both of them were careful and gentle with their animals, treating them as friends rather than just pets. Amos brushed his fingers over Achak's nose, smiling softly as the stallion huffed and nudged their shoulder lightly, intelligent brown eyes watching their own intently. "You ready, bud?" The horse nickered, stomping the ground in response. Amos had had the stallion long enough to know that the reaction wasn't a simple coincidence, he really did understand his owner, at least, to an extent. They smiled and nodded, walking around and jumping up onto Ackak's back, settling into the saddle before turning to Bea who was still talking to Pixie, her horse in a quiet voice.

"Come on, Bea! Estelle and Ghazi will be on our asses if we take too much longer!"

Bea looked over and rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff before patting Pixie's neck and swinging herself up onto her back. "Yeah, well, you can deal with them, you're good at that!"

"I don't utilize my skills against our allies," Amos stated, raising an eyebrow at his sister as he clicked at Achak to start trotting toward the station. "That would be a very bad idea. I thought you would have learned that by now."

Bea chuckled, gently nudging Pixie to follow her brother. "You're scared, aren't you?"

Amos looked over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips. "Now, why would I be scared? I don't have anything to fear, I'm as good a cop as any and I don't intend on betraying anyone."

"But Estelle scares you," Bea stated, smirking at her brother playfully.

Amos wrinkled his nose in answer. "Nope, you just want the attention off you because you think she's pretty."

Bea's cheeks flushed and she looked away. "Yeah, she is! There's nothing wrong with that!"

Mos chuckled and turned back in his saddle. "I never said there was."

The two traveled the rest of the way in relative silence, arriving at the station about five minutes after they began riding, and took care of their horses before heading inside.

Surprisingly, not many people seemed to be there yet, only Estelle, who was almost always the first one there, and Ghazi, which also wasn't surprising. Bea shot Amos an 'I told you it would be fine' look, which Mos answered with a 'Better safe than sorry' one, before stepping forward. He was about to tap on the door lightly but paused at the sound of Ghazi's voice on the other side. Whatever the conversation was, it was obviously important.

Sighing softly, Amos stepped back and gestured their sister over away from the door. Bea gave him a questioning look and they shrugged.

"Give them a moment, don't want to interrupt."

Bea snorted, nudging her brother in the side. "You're such a stuck-up! Just knock on the door already!"

Amos smiled easily, shaking his head. "Nope, we can wait."

"I'm bored! I wanna go find some of those evil people!"

"What, to talk them out of their horrendous way?" Mos's tone was slightly mocking and they raised an eyebrow as Bea huffed dramatically.

"You act like it's impossible! I'm telling you, if we just sat down and had a conversation with them, I'm sure they're not all bad!"

Amos's smile fell and they stared at his sister seriously. "Don't try that shit. They're evil. Trust me."

Bea rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she watched her brother. "You can't possibly know that! You've never even really spoken to any of them!"

"You're going to get yourself killed." His body was tense as they thought about it. They'd shielded his sister from the worst of the world for as long as possible, and, at this point, they feared he'd let her believe everything was good for too long. She hadn't seen what he had. Hadn't seen what people like... like him did. Sure, she wasn't completely immune to the horrors of the world, she was a cop after all, but she'd only ever seen the tip of the iceberg.

"No, I won't, I'm not stupid!"

"You're gullible."

"I'm not gullible, I can just see the good in people that you can't!"

"There's no good in people like them!" Amos snapped. "Do not put yourself in a situation with one of those people where you are vulnerable. Don't try to talk to them, don't try to reason with them, they will not hesitate to put a bullet in your head and a knife in your gut, not everyone is good. Try any of that shit and I swear to god I'll kill you myself, do you understand me?"

Bea clenched her fists, looking like she wanted to argue, but she simply let out a sigh and nodded. "Fine."

"Good." Amos relaxed slightly, hesitating before speaking again. "I just want to protect you."

Bea looked away, blue eyes slightly glossy. "I know."

Amos wanted to reach out, but, knowing his sister, it wouldn't help anything, so he simply stayed silent and leaned back against the station wall, awkwardly waiting for Ghazi and Estelle to appear and give orders.

Bea Karagiannis | 23 | Female | Demisexual Lesbian - Ambi | Cop | Mentions: Amos, Estelle, Ghazi, Cops (ind.), Riders (ind.), Open

Bea woke up slowly, as usual, and it took her several minutes to her convince herself to actually roll out of bed. Just as her feet touched the floor, a knock echoed through her small room, alerting her to the fact that her brother was already up.

This was no surprise. He usually woke up an hour or so before she did and somehow wasn't completely dying. Absolute nonsense in her opinion.

"Yeah, coming, sorry!"

Shaking herself more awake, Bea began to rush around her room, pulling out clothes and shoving them on sloppily.

"It's alright, but hurry! My guess is the Riders are causing chaos already, we'll need all hands on deck!"

She rolled her eyes, huffing to herself as she pulled on her boots. Sure, maybe the Riders were causing chaos already, but it wasn't as though six cops could do much against their much larger group! Not to mention, no one even wanted to try her method. You know, talk before kill? That seemed like the logical way to go, but apparently, that wasn't an option.

"Yep, got it!"

After her boots were on, Bea shoved her short hair into a ponytail (Or, as best a ponytail as she could manage with wavy, shorter-than-shoulder-length hair), and opened the door to find her brother standing, waiting, with a small smile on his lips. As usual.

He was wearing long black pants, a plain white shirt with a blue jacket, their tall black boots, a white bandana, and a gun at his side. She smiled at them.

"Ready!"

Amos grinned. "Right, then let's get going."

As they headed outside, Bea finally felt fully awake, her normal bounce reappearing in her step. She sped up to reach her horse faster, grinning as she reached her best friend (which was obviously her horse, who else?!?).

"Pixie!" In a rather childish manner, she wrapped her arms around Pixie's neck, burying her face in the soft fur as the mare nickered softly and responded by dropping her head down to wrap her head around Bea's back, earning a laugh from her human. "Good girl! You ready to head out? If we're lucky, we'll even get some running in today!" She stepped back and around the mare to get her tack ready, chuckling when the lively horse tossed her head. Bea wasn't sure how much the horse actually understood, but she for sure knew what "running" meant.

"Hell yeah! It'll be awesome! And maybe we'll get to ride with Leuruna today! And Estelle!" Her cheeks flushed a little at the idea of being around the two for a longer period of time. She wasn't necessarily attracted to either of them, but they were both incredibly pretty and frankly awesome people, and Bea looked up to them both as leaders and role models. "And maybe today will be the day I can convince everyone to calm down and just talk! That would be good, wouldn't it!" She was careful to keep her voice low, knowing how much her brother disagreed with her, they'd had this argument millions of times, and, unfortunately, Bea never won.

"Come on, Bea! Estelle and Ghazi will be on our asses if we take too much longer!"

Bea rolled her eyes, huffing quietly before hopping on Pixie.

"Yeah, well, you can deal with them, you're good at that!"

"I don't utilize my skills against our allies, That would be a very bad idea. I thought you would have learned that by now."

Chuckling, Bea nudged Pixie into motion. Realistically, she knew that Amos didn't have that much of a problem with "utilizing his skills against their allies," it was more out of a mixture of respect and a ridiculously large amount of loyalty that Amos felt toward their fellow officers. Which was understandable, of course, but that didn't mean that Bea couldn't tease him about their answer. "You're scared, aren't you?"

Amos looked over his shoulder, that ridiculously annoying smile on their lips. Bea never understood how he managed that, no matter what they were really feeling, he always seemed to be able to smile through it and blind everyone else to his emotion. Which was stupid, Bea could never do that! She was basically an open book!

"Now, why would I be scared? I don't have anything to fear, I'm as good a cop as any and I don't intend on betraying anyone."

"But Estelle scares you," Bea continued her teasing, aware that Estelle did kind of scare Amos. Minimally, but still.

"Nope, you just want the attention off you because you think she's pretty."

At that, Bea felt her cheeks heating up. Yeah, of course, she was pretty! She was gorgeous! How dare Amos use that against her?!

"Yeah, she is! There's nothing wrong with that!"

Mos chuckled and turned back in his saddle. "I never said there was."

The rest of the way to the station, Bea found herself pouting and trying to get her flushed skin back to its normal color. It would be quite embarrassing if they got to the station and Estella asked her what was wrong, after all. Not a story she wanted to tell.

When they did arrive, though, it was quickly clear that Estelle and Ghazi were the only ones there. Which meant Amos had been rushing her for nothing! The two exchanged looks, but, as Amos went to knock on Estelle's office door, they paused and then backed up. Confused, Bea tilted her head questioningly as her brother returned to her side.

"Give them a moment, don't want to interrupt."

Snorting, she nudged their side. "You're such a stuck-up! Just knock on the door already!"

Amos gave another one of those stupid smiles and shook his head. "Nope, we can wait."

Bea sighed, already bored by the idea of waiting around. She wanted to run around on Pixie or practice, do something! "I'm bored! I wanna go find some of those evil people!"

"What, to talk them out of their horrendous way?" Mos's tone was teasing, but the words were enough to get under Bea's skin. Why was that a joke instead of a legitimate option?

"You act like it's impossible! I'm telling you, if we just sat down and had a conversation with them, I'm sure they're not all bad!"

Amos's smile fell, his eyes becoming serious as they met hers.

"Don't try that shit. They're evil. Trust me."

'Here we go again.' She rolled her eyes, matching her brother's glare. "You can't possibly know that! You've never even really spoken to any of them!"

Amos's whole body seemed to tense at that. As it always did when the Riders were brought up, he was always so paranoid about all of it that Bea had half the mind to believe one of them actually did something to them!

"You're going to get yourself killed."

She almost flinched at that, just barely keeping it in. Did Amos really think she was that dumb? That weak? She wasn't! She knew she wasn't!

"No, I won't, I'm not stupid!"

"You're gullible."

The response was both painful and unnecessarily quick. Like Amos didn't even need time to think about what flaws she had, they were just at the front of his mind.

"I'm not gullible, I can just see the good in people that you can't!"

"There's no good in people like them!" Amos's voice was harsher now, filled with anger that Bea rarely saw in her brother. Anger warned her not to push any further. "Do not put yourself in a situation with one of those people where you are vulnerable. Don't try to talk to them, don't try to reason with them, they will not hesitate to put a bullet in your head and a knife in your gut, not everyone is good. Try any of that shit and I swear to god I'll kill you myself, do you understand me?"

Bea wanted to protest, to explain to Amos that maybe these people had been through something too, maybe they'd lost their family just like they had! He was jumping to conclusions, saying they were all bad people, but what if that wasn't true?! What if they were good people who just made bad decisions? Maybe they were people who were hurt and trying to prove a point? Make things right? How could Amos possibly know that wasn't true?!

Yet, his tone was enough to let Bea know that the subject needed to be dropped, so, clinching her fists and fighting back tears of anger, she relented. "Fine."

"Good." There was a pause, and then, "I just want to protect you."

Bea looked away, pain spiking in her chest. He always said that, and she never doubted that they meant it, but that didn't make things easier. "I know."

Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 19, 2023 10:21 PM


Cereal

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Santos

༻︵𓏶︵༺

26 | Male | Cops | Member | Mentions: NPC Gang Member (dir.) and Estella (ind.)

Santos sat across the table from another man, his eyes of seemingly charcoal fixated on the other, his face heavy and solemn while his eyes were empty like an abyss. The entire house was grimly dark, with only a lantern being the only light source. He had his hands under the table, tracing the serrated blade as he listened to the man's rambles. "I told you already. I don't know anything." When Santos lifted his head slightly, the flames from the lantern reflected off them, making it seem that he had flames in his eyes. The unnamed man's face was bloodied and bruised, showing definite signs that he had been hit in the face a few times. His arms and legs were tied hog-tie style with a wet cloth around his neck. An indication that he had been gagged prior. His clothes were covered in dirt and dust, disheveled in appearance.

That wasn't the answer he wanted, and it showed slightly. His lips twitched in displeasure over the lack of information, and his entire body stiffened. Santos was eerily still as he locked eyes with the badly bruised man, internally debating what to do with him. "Amigo," his voice lacked liveliness, yet it made him all too intimidating, "I have little desire to prolong such a conversation." When he brought his hands onto the table, his knuckles were red on the skin, though it was unclear if it was from the other's blood or the consistent contact of his fists meeting the man's head. "Give me a proper answer, and I'll let you leave. Simple, yes?"

His comment made the other groan in pain and impatience, "I've told you. I don't know anything." The man's tone was hostile, snapping at Santos despite being the one at his mercy. Santos sat quietly for a few minutes, tilting his head as he examined his forced companion. He slowly got up, a sigh in the form of a huffed left from his nose. Santos stalked over to the man bounded in the chair, tossing the dagger and catching it repeatedly. He cut the ropes to his wrists and listened as the other fellow thanked him. "Thank you for showing mercy. I'll do whatever you say," he constantly repeated, but hearing the words repeated made Santos' anger bubble under his stoic face. His jaw clenching, teeth pressed together, and he grinds them frustratedly.

He grabs one of his wrists, ignoring the tied ankles, and holds it down on the table. The stranger expressed confusion about what he was doing, holding himself back from conversing further. Without warning, he plunged the saw-tooth blade deep into the hand, the sharpened blade breaching through the table. Santos ignored the man's screams of agony as he twisted the knife in a different direction with one swift motion. He didn't flinch when he heard bones and flesh break and tear, not even when the other hollered in anguish. "I've paid you to be my eyes," he twisted the knife again, "I've paid for your honest words," then again, "I've paid for you to enjoy yourself," and twisted it once more, "and you spat at my generosity."

The screams had gotten louder, his hand shredding at the spot where the weapon was, with his blood pouring like a river of crimson. His screams turned into quiet sobs, constantly calling Santos a bastard under his breath. Santos side-glared him, one hand on the hilt while the other rests by his hips where a glass vile of yellow liquid rests. "Bastard am I? Over such a small thing like this?" He clicked the roof of his tongue, leaning closer to the man in the chair, the fire in his eyes growing, "This is minimum on what I'm going to do to you." His remark was replied to with a bloodied spit to the face, Santos rearing back in disgust and wiping his face clean with his shirt. Santos didn't mention it, as his actions would tell how outraged he was towards his lack of mannerisms.

Santos grabbed the small vital and pulled out the cork after checking to see if the hand would remain in place. "Tell me, what do you know about venom." He coldly commented, examining the small glass between his fingers before hovering it over the injured hand. Everyone has different experiences and reactions to it, but," he tipped the bottle to where the liquid was dangerously close to spilling, "they all suffered immense torment." He could see his arm quiver beneath him, realizing the man was shaking in fear. "Mr. McCoy. The more you quiver, the faster it'll spread throughout your body. I suggest holding still." Although, it's unclear if he was telling the truth or not. The way he said it made it seem believable to his poor former intel as he forced himself to remain firm. Finally, he poured the entire body over the open wound.

"You won't experience anything at first, considering it'll take 15 to 30 minutes," with the glass drained, he carelessly tossed it to the side, but no sound of it impacting the ground was heard, only a soft thump. Santos went over to his seat and sat down, crossing his legs together as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it up using the lantern and took one huff before blowing out the smoke, "Give me my desired information, and I'll give you the cure. If you keep hesitating, you're a dead man, Mr. McCoy. The clock is ticking." He crossed his legs and slacked in his chair, drumming his fingers along the table to create a rhythm while he hummed along, mocking the man in distress. Mr. McCoy's eyes went to his hand where the knife was embedded, and the venom poured, a gulp in his throat, bobbing his Adam's Apple. "Alright, I'll give you everything that you wanted. All I'm asking is for me to go free." Intrigued, Santos leaned forward and ceased his melody, fully concentrating on Mr. McCoy.

The more he talked, his face twisted in misery as the venom steadily crept into action, their conversation lasting around 19 minutes until he finished spilling everything. "No-now," he meekly said, the strength in his voice weak as he struggled to breathe. Meanwhile, his hand started to look swollen, with more blood dripping. Santos peeked at his face, noticing how puffier they'd gotten at the mouth and throat. Only then did he smirk in brisk amusement before offering him a smile. "Indeed I shall. It's your reward for telling me." It was starting to get hard for Mr. McCoy to keep his head up as he felt light and drool leaking from his lips as he thanked him again.

Santos got up again, placing a hand behind his back as he approached, "I give you my full gratitude and loyalty. You have my word." His head drooped, and Santos nodded, "Most certainly. I take your word for it," he commented before pulling a machine pistol from his back and shooting him on the side of his head. As he went completely slumped and unmoving, Santos pulled the knife from its temporary sheath and wiped it clean using the dead man's shirt. "Thank you for your cooperation." He mumbled, checking how clean his knife was, and tucked it back into his belt loop. He grabbed a whiskey bottle from a shelf beside him and poured it over the body. "See you in the future in eternal rest," he tossed the lantern at the man and watched it shatter, flames greedily consuming his body, making the room brighter. Dead bodies of Mr. McCoy's fellow gang members scattered the floors and furniture, all shot by the only living person in the room. The small vital he threw rested on the back of a man face down on the floor.

As the inferno spread, Santos took his leave from the former gang's hideout, still smoking his cigarette as he left through the front door. After moving a safe distance away, he flicked the butt into the house, allowing the flames to consume it too. Santos whistled sharply to call his horse, which it did as it obediently walked over to him. He mounted up and kicked its side gently as he tugged the reins. He galloped away from the house and the scattered tents outside it. He was deathly quiet as he made it to the town where the other cops were, his attitude colder than before. Santos dropped his horse off at the town stables and walked to the hotel he was staying in until his job steered him elsewhere. He cleaned himself up from a hot bath and dressed in fresh clothes.

A simple blue long-sleeved button-up shirt, black jeans, and dark leather boots. He didn't bother to put on sleep clothes since his adrenaline was still coursing through him, so he wanted something to drain it. Santos left the hotel, the night sky hovering above him, staring at him with disdain. Santos was about to pop another cigarette as he listed his choices until his eyes met a familiar face in the dimly lit street. Estella. Well, if it can't be something, it can be someone. Santos put his smoke away into the case and chased after the woman to have a civil conversation with her.

༻︵𓏶︵༺

Mentions: Estella and Ghazi (ind.), then Estella, Ghazi, and other cops (dir.)

Santos woke in a bed, no, an entire room that wasn't his. The man's vision was blurry, and his head felt strangely lighter. He remained in bed, the blankets covering his hips and somewhat his upper legs, leaving the rest of his bother exposed to the elements. He slung an arm partially over his head, one of his eyes uncovered as he stared at the ceiling, trying to recollect what the fuck happened yesterday night. He squinted his eyelids as the events slowly came back. Murder, torture, murder again, and then, well, that and with his boss.

Santos wasn't the type to pursue such relationships with anyone, and it's been years since he slept with someone, but something overcame him last night. He groaned, turning in bed, the blanket dangerously close to slipping off. The man's chest and back are covered in what seemingly appear to be claw marks. Tiny bruises that were intense in pigmentation nearly dotted the entirety of his neck. Damn, that woman didn't just lunge at him. She practically treated him like a lavish meal. Santos now was a cross between a tiger and a leopard with his stripes and spots, and he had Estella to thank. Huh, who knew a woman who appeared to be innocent on the inside had such fervor?

His fingers traced the stitch cards on his right side, shutting his eyes as he debated whether to attend the meeting or skip it. The second option sounds more pleasing, but knowing the two higher-ups, they will have his head for missing something important. Santos turned and rested on his back again, raising both brows, "I could always skip it and blackmail Estella to shut up about it," he suggested, sitting up in the woman's bed and checking out his clothes on the floor. "Hmph, probably let me get away with certain things to keep what we did hushed. Knowing Ghazi," he climbed out of bed to put on his clothes, "he would notice our behavior and attitude." He defeatedly sighed and got dressed for the day. He was about to head out the door when he noticed a coffee tin on the kitchen table, begging him to take it. Santos stood there for a moment, checking to see if the lid had been removed, as it could've been tampered with if it was.

Well, his decision was seemingly final as he walked to Estella's office with a mug of fresh coffee and sipped the hot drink as he entered the room with the others. His eyes went to the sheriff, silently daring her to say anything about the coffee and decorative mug that belonged to her, then to Ghazi as he hid a few files from the already stressed woman. "Sparing her from grey hairs?" It wasn't teasing, and the volume of his words made that clear. Santos was serious when he made such a comment before taking a seat at a desk. Santos sipped again but made it louder to taunt the head honcho that he gets a nice beverage while she was left empty-handed. "Boss," his gaze focused on the woman, "I'm battered from last night and desire a day off. As you can see," he used a free hand to gesture to his marked neck, "a wild animal attacked him last night."


Edited at May 19, 2023 11:21 PM by Tamesis
Red Handed | RP Thread | OpenMay 20, 2023 05:52 AM


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Ryder Kenneth Alexander
23 | Male | Lone Riders Member | M: NPCs, Florence(dir.)

Ryder’s eyes met Florence’s as he scolded him. He couldn’t help but notice how short he was, talking to Ryder in such an aggressive tone. It was adorable, in his opinion. Florence was quite close to him and it took everything in Ryder not to just grab him by the face. Florence had told Ryder to follow him, and he did just that. He was quite surprised that Florence had asked him to tag along on such a mission. After all, Florence was so worried that Ryder was going to mess it up. He tried his best not to, as he had just gotten threatened by a man who was half his height. Ryder followed close behind Florence, practically pressing up against him. As they entered, Ryder noticed these burly looking guys who were speaking to Florence. And they spoke in such a disgusting way. Ryder’s eyes darted up as the one guy had called Florence a lady. Oh how Ryder wanted to tear his head off but he promised Florence he wouldn’t do anything irrational. He watched as the two shared a serious conversation. However, some of the stuff this guy was saying made Ryder want to jump in.

His attention snapped to Florence as he heard the gun shot. At this moment, Ryder knew that Florence wasn’t playing around anymore. Ryder looked up at the guy as he continued his smart remarks, until of course Florence had to warn him again. It would only be seconds before Florence decided to just put a round in this guy. A part of Ryder was quite surprised to see this menacing side of Florence. His eyes drifted as another guy entered the room with them, assuming because of the gun shots. The continuous smart remarks from the first guy was enough for Florence to be done with his shit. Ryder’s eyes widened slightly as Florence put a bullet in between the guys eyes. Ryder chuckled before speaking. “What an asshole.” He said under his breath, referring to the, now dead, man.

He watched as the remaining man proposed a challenge for Florence. Take down his men? Plural? Florence? By himself? Ryder didn’t doubt Florence one but after seeing his performance but he was ready to jump in if needed. He knew these guys were done for as Florence handed Ryder the gun. Ryder gracefully took it and stepped back, only intending to jump in if Florence needed it. And Florence quite clearly didn’t need it. Ryder watched as he had gracefully and strategically took these men down one by one. A grin appeared on Ryder’s face as he admired the man. As the fight neared to an end, Ryder and Florence were finally granted permission to enter. He watched as Florence had grabbed his hand making their way inside. The two had sat down at the bar and he watched as Florence ordered a Shirley Temple. Ryder got the same thing as him, however, Florence acted quite strange within the hour. He noticed as Florence unbuttoned his shirt and told Ryder that it was hot in here.

A grin appeared on Ryder’s face as he leaned in closer to Florence’s ear so that he could hear him. “I think I know what would help you cool off.” He said before grabbing Florence’s hand and making his way towards one of the hallways that weren’t as busy as the rest of the place. Ryder took one sly look at Florence before quickly backing him to the wall. He had his arms placed on either side of Florence, pinning him as he was admiring his features. “You’re so pretty my little flower.” He said as he cracked a chuckle. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to kiss you when you tore those men apart.” Ryder said to him, maintaining eye contact. However, within seconds, Ryder was already placing his hand upon Florence’s neck before making his way up to his face. He rubbed Florence’s face gently before lifting his chin up and leaning in to kiss him passionately. Ryder had placed his hands upon Florence’s waist, pulling him in closer to the point where the two were practically pressed against each other. Ryder had paused for a moment while he took in Florence’s attractive appearance.

It was no secret that Ryder was a complete fool for Florence. He wasn’t typically like that with anybody else. But Florence did something to him. Perhaps it was the way he practically owned Ryder. The way he talks to him. Most would question why Ryder would want that but the truth is, Ryder simply couldn’t get enough of it. He looked in Florence’s eyes before kissing him again, pinning him into the wall more aggressively this time. Ryder tried to be careful with Florence but at the same time, he couldn’t help it. Ryder kept his hands on Florence’s waist before pulling away again with a flirtatious grin. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.” He said as he kept his eyes locked onto Florence’s.


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