Disenfranchised Impunity Roleplay

[CaR_HoPPeR]

• Be respectful to each other outside of the Roleplay. If there's any drama concerning people's characters and/or yourselves, please be civilized and sort any issues with each other accordingly. If any of that drama gets dragged into the Roleplay itself, I will have to force the members in question to sort it out with me as the mediator and arbiter. This is your only warning.
  
• If you're not gonna be active or have something to do, please try to give us a heads up whether you're not gonna be active. This helps us to slow down the Roleplay and wait for you to come back so you can catch up. If you think you're gonna be too inactive or have important duties to catch up, please announce that in the OOC thread. Don't be afraid to quit: this is a Roleplay not your day job.
  
• Brevity is important when posting in the Roleplay. If you have anything you like to clear up in your initial post, put your explanation in the OOC thread and quote the specified text as well so all of us, specifically me, can read it and react accordingly to it in the Roleplay.
  
• When your character is dead, he/she is gone forever. I am deadly serious. There is no method of resurrection in the Roleplay whatsoever. Your character's choices are finalized by the time you finish the post. Post responsibility with and for your character.
  
• Due to time constraints and importance of organization, you can only create one character for this Roleplay. So if your initial character has passed away, you will not and can not create another character to be in this Roleplay.
  

• 
  
  Breaking any of these rules will be reprimanded. I will give players three chances if the any of the rules are broken. If someone hits their last chance, they will be kicked out of the Roleplay indefinitely.
  
  ​

If you have any inquiries, PM me or post your questions in the OOC thread. I'll be happy to respond. Also just have fun, and good luck on your survival.

 

[CaR_HoPPeR]

Compton County, California. 6:45 PM.


   “Alright boys and girls. We got your toys right here… Mind explaining me where you get dem purdy toys?” A guard distorted itself from its headgear in the alleyways, pacing around the tied fugitives by heavy boots while swinging its baton around its sling. The headlights from the patrol vans and cars gave center stage to the group as the forming audience of Compton watched patiently. The fugitives in their respectful green military fatigues looked down to the ground, hands bounded by black zip ties. Next to them were assortments of ordnance: old-world AK47s, AR-15s and cases of M67 fragmentation grenades.


There were no sirens calling out but the crowd insisted to block the alleys, their curiosity making the area more of a fire hazard.


“Heard you might be the ones achieving true peace with ballistics, is that right?”


Crowds formed around the situation, the vantablack-donned guards and vans obscuring the scene. The numerous blobs of people try to enter the scene though the intimidating looking and physically threatening security, it’s batons and holstered firearms enough indication for them to back off.


“Well… You don’t need to answer, all of you are by the dozens anyways. You either answer or get deported while I still get paid by the end of the day...” The guard murmured with its facial obscurity. The baton patiently tapped one of the fugitives’ heads.


“Now tell me-” The guard started as one of the fugitives grabbed its arm holding the baton suddenly.


“VIVA LA REVOLUCION!”


She screamed, dropping the belt of pineapples hidden on her chest. Safety pins rained from the belt while all of them one by one clinked softly to the ground. The guard recoiled from her weight as the explosions came after, ranging through the streets and the cloudless night sky.


The crowd surrounding the event quickly dispersed, most of them running away from the scene while some of them writhed in the ground from the shrapnel and trampling of the running civilians. The guards were staying their ground, pushing the civilians away from the scene as more discharged firearms rang through the street, causing more chaos in the vicinity.


5:57 AM


“... In the city of Compton, A tragic event has occurred.” The mini archaic TV buzzed on the table with its lacking reception, the new networks having more trouble to control the airways. The befreckled teenager yawned in her sports bra and baggy sweatpants, looking boredly at the TV as her pale mother kissed her messy ginger ponytail and hugged her tightly with her blue nurse scrubs.


“Don’t go physically knocking guys out at school or when you play hooky Amelia. You know they go to the same ER I work in.” The mother’s tired eyes darting at the TV then back at her sleepy daughter as she whispered to her daughter’s freckled ear with the words “BREAKING NEWS” popped into the corner of the screen.


“Alright mom, jeez. I’ll visit you when I get out of school okay?” Amelia patting her mother’s arm annoyingly, trying to pay attention to the news. Her mother smiled as she pulled her thin brunette hair into a bun. A door was smacked open, her tanned father yawned loudly as well. He walked out of his bedroom, his perpetually ruffled black hair with his hairy scarred chest out and striped boxers came through the kitchen.


His lips smacking out the morning dryness in tandem with the TV going on about its broadcast. Her father gave a peck to his wife’s freckled face and a good slap to her pants as she left, Amelia reacting to this event with a conditioned bemused face. Her smiling father began to open the fridge and browse through the lack of food.


“Morning, pecas. You know you got school today right?” He squeezed his crooked nose as he sneezed into the fridge.


“It’s six o’clock in the morning papi. Besides I’m going on my run soon.” His daughter responded with an annoyed wave, bruised knuckles and all. Her extremely befreckled face and arms facing only at the buzzing reception attentively.


“My sixteen year old pecas growing strong.” Her father mockingly wiping a hypothetical tear as he drew closer to peck his daughter’s face freckles, which she responded with the same annoyed wave.


“... The remaining twelve of the twenty-two insurgents have been shot down while being restrained for deportation, after an altercation involving the explosion of  fragmentation grenades launched by one of the soon deportees hidden on her persons. Twenty-seven civilian casualties has been officially reported and forced the security forces to reciprocate by shooting down the remaining insurgents in fear of another explosive incident.”


The already buzzy reception grew worse as the reporter continued her announcement, the static ambient of a jackhammer. Her father walked to the TV and reactively slammed the top of the TV, hopefully giving a clearer picture for his daughter.


“... It has been reported that the Freesurpers, a militant and rebellious faction since the 2020s, has claimed responsibility of this incident and has announced that in their own words, ‘this is only the begin-’”


The reception grew even worse, eventually giving out a Olympia Corporates and Conglomerate sponsored colored bars with the large starking pixelated white letters of PLEASE STANDBY.


“Well that’s how the news goes, time for you to go on your run then pequeño.” Her father smiled as he reached over to the TV to turn it off. He patted his daughter’s shoulder as she risen from her chair as she trotted briskly to the front door, giving herself room to do her stretches.


“Just remember to go to school this time alright pecas?” He smirked.


“Ooookay papi.” She stretched her toned spotted arms, rolling her eyes as she touched her toes effortlessly with her legs flexed with definition. Her father chuckled as her arms arise, her chest bent from side to side while her robust abs react accordingly.


Her father leaned on the fridge. “You remind me of your mother when we were young. Except with more pecas.”


“It’s aaasss ifff I’m a splitting image born from my respective mother.” She replied sarcastically between relaxed breaths, getting the last of her stretches before her run.


“Well, I’ll get your lunch ready once you get done with your run. Be sure to visit Abuelita Gutierrez on your run: she likes to spoil pequeños like you.”


“Sure.” Amelia replied, pulling her arms together to her hips and sighed with relief to finish off her stretching.


“I’m serious Amelia, don’t keep going to the gym all the time.” Her father lectured her sternly as his daughter put on her worn sneakers. “Don’t like them hood boys eyeing you all the time, try to get hook some boys from school this time alright?”


“What’s the actual difference?.” She smirked as her father walked to her and kissed her forehead.


“¿Tú sabes que te amo, verdad? Just be good okay pecas?”


“I’ll try.” She mockingly smiled and hugged her father’s chest.


As the door closed with his daughter’s footsteps drew farther away from the apartment, her father sighed at the overdue Olympia scrip bills.



“This is gonna be an interesting month.” He tried to smile as he walked away from the pink colored envelopes, getting ready for the day as well.

 

[Lost Echo]

A young redhead couldn’t suppress the pleased groan as she woke up with a stretch.  Sure, the mattress was more lumps than fluff, but Audi was appreciating the space more than anything.  To sleep spread out was as much of a gift as anything she’d gotten last night.  It was even hot enough that her bed companion had kept his distance during the night. [SIZE=14pt][/SIZE]

 


Taking a glance at him, the woman was grateful to see he was still asleep.  He wasn’t a bad choice—small enough she felt no discomfort, sweet enough to not mind her finding breakfast this morning.  And he had the skills to register the car as hers.  She’d given him some lie about losing the papers, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t cared one way or the other.  She’d certainly given him other things to think about last night. 

 


It was rare for her to drive a car for so long.  Since leaving Colorado she only switched cars twice.  It had done well getting her over the Rockies.  She’d considered dumping it before reaching LA, but with these new papers, she could even sell it legally.  More or less.  It needed some work done after such a long trip, but she knew cars well enough not to worry about it.

 


Sliding out of the bed, she took the opportunity to use the shared bathroom of his apartment.  While she waited for the water to start running clear, she took inventory of herself in a cracked mirror.  Other than a few red marks on her pale skin, no leftover signs from the night before.   The shower was quick, but enjoyed.  Even though the water was lukewarm, Audi knew how much of a difference a few days without one made.  Really, she was mostly considering finding her own place just for a bathroom of her own. 

 


Her skin was pink by the time she returned to the apartment.  Her blue tank top clung to her wet skin, but she knew she would appreciate it once she went outside.  Each day surprised her with hotter and hotter temperatures.  Some days it made her miss the west.  Her car had ac though it ate gas far too quickly for her to run it constantly.  She wore simple cut off denim shorts.  The guy was still asleep, so she went to his kitchenette, starting coffee.   For herself, she browsed through his fridge, frowning at the strange choices, before settling on two yogurts.  The strawberry was bland.  The chocolate flavor was awful.  She ate them anyway.

 


In between spoonfuls, she gathered the clothes she left last night, folded the title and registration what’s-his-name had given her and tucked them into the backpack that doubled as a purse.  After a glance over her wallet, she shrugged, deciding not to try looking for his.  He was a contact, though she wasn’t tying herself down to him.  Instead she went over to the sleeping man, running her hands through his hair—it really was his best feature.  “Hey hon, I gotta go.”  She barely listened to his tired groan; it was early, not even 6.  “Thanks for the help.”  Pulling the strap of her pack over one shoulder, Audi left the stranger’s apartment, pleased with the night’s success.


[SIZE=14pt][/SIZE]

 

[Swindle]

"Tragic?" A soft voice spoke aloud, puzzled at how tragic things could be happening in a place that her parents said would be better than their old town. 

Although she didn't quite understand what everything the news anchors were saying meant, she could easily piece together what tragic must have meant in context. Watching the news was one of the girl's favored hobbies - though she had nothing to compare it to, she believed herself rather skillful at analyzing and figuring out news headlines. 

She walked over to a small light blue drawer near her bed, which at this point she had gotten used to the relative closeness of such a small house. It was two stories and about the same size as all the other houses in the neighborhood, something which she thought odd. Odella figured everyone lived in houses bigger than this. Surely, this must be a poorer person's home. She shrugged, and went back to the task she had assigned herself.

Opening the drawer, several notebooks came in sight. They had titles such as "math," "language," and other subjects written in poorly formed scribbles. Shuffling through the stack of about ten journals, her hands eventually made their way to one titled "news & TV." Odella picked up a pen on top of the drawer and opened the notebook as she walked back to her bed, sitting down to more precisely write what she had just heard about. Filling in a little bullet under the many others that preceded it, her self-given writing assignment began. She wrote down what happened, the time that she saw the news story, why she thought it might have happened, and then suddenly closed the journal tight. 

"Okay...Now I'll hopefully remember it for later to talk about to someone!" Her superstition, which was that closing the book tightly and quickly would enhance her recollection of the scenario, worked as far as she was concerned. Going through the rounds of re-opening the drawer and placing the notepad back inside, she left her room with a slight bounce in her step, hands swaying side-to-side. As she went downstairs into the living room, she noticed her Father, doing his usual Father things. Sitting at some computer, typing about stuff that he never talked to her about.

He also had some strange packages, which were unusual compared to what Odella normally got to see, but she figured it must be one of those "business things" that she was always told to stay out of. "Father, I'm going to go walk around the town and what-not." He looked back, nodded at her for confirmation's sake, then returned to typing on the computer. She always found him to be reclusive, so the reaction was nothing surprising. Walking out the door, she started down the nearest sidewalk with the same bounce and gait as she used to leave her room. 

 

[Byatis]

C. STROUD
​

Norwalk Apartment
​

6:44 AM
​

 
​

As he opened his eyes, Carter turned toward the dim glow of his clock. A'ight, I'll take it. It was exactly one minute before his alarm was set to go off. To wake without being jolted from his sleep was a blessing he didn't get often. He sat up and reached over to deactivate the fast approaching buzzer. Silently and without many thoughts, he proceeded with his usual morning routine. Shower. Clothes. Breakfast.


Fully awakened now from his shower, he fried an egg for breakfast. It was paired with milk and peanut-butter toast. Making a slightly lopsided frown, Carter examined his morning meal. Hmm. Better hit up the store 'fore I get back. As he looked at this plate, a medium sized manilla envelope caught his eye.


Tha's right, he thought as he picked up the little package. It was nice of his sister to write. Lacey had taken his leaving a bit harder than he had expected, given that he and his siblings were never really close. Enclosed with the letter that she had sent were a pen, stationary paper, extra stamps and envelopes already labeled out to her address. Carter wanted to write her, but didnt know what he would write about. His new apartment was better than the one in Columbia, but it wasn't a big ol' house like hers. It was a place. He knew that Lacey probably didn't want to hear about the news. White wash using words like "tragic", "militant", and "casualites".  Maybe later, Ace. Ain't nothin' good to say right now.


Carter tossed the parcel back onto the counter and picked up his keys instead. He grabbed a few old money and some scrips for food. You never knew who would take what. Opting to take a bit more than he needed, he divided it up into equal parts and put them into small plastic bags. He taped the currency filled bags to various places on his body and finished dressing himself. The extra that he didn't attach to hisself was shoved into his pockets.


After cleaning his morning mess, he was ready to leave for his job in Cerritos. It wasn't as glamourous of a job as the houses in Cerritos looked, but the place looked like money and he figured he would be better off with a job there than some of the other boroughs. Is'a little early but...


Closing the door behind him, he figured leaving early might let him wait less in line for passage through to the next borough. Locking his apartment, he started his 45 minute journey to his job.

 

[ShinJix]

"Nothing could be more tragic than what I have been through. Nothing." An insomnia-ridden girl murmured with a crowded throat as she flipped through TV channels with the coincidental news. The girl had curled herself into a burrito of fabric using her blanket before binge-staring at her only source of light since midnight. Empty cans of bootleg-branded soda and crumpled up chip bags littered the girl's bed and floor.


"I don't even like the news. Why am I watching the news? Father always liked the news, so why am I watching the news?" The girl rapidly pushed her remote's channel button with full force to get rid of the thought of him. Feeling embarassed of herself, she covered her eyes and messed up her already disheveled hair.


"I wish that I was like one of those fugitives, so maybe then I could cause a ruckus toward my father... who would conveniently be a guard." The girl prolonged her chuckle before abrupting stopping at the sound of footsteps outside her room. 


"Steph! It's freaking six a-m! Can you turn off the TV and go to bed for just one day?" A woman's voice pierced the two-floor complex before a loud flurry of knocking impacted the door. On the other side, Stephanie only cowered deeper into her blanket as she shakingly grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. 


"O-ok, Lise!" Stephanie said in pitch darkness as she kept her eyes at the door, surrounded by the empty cans of bootleg-branded soda and crumped up chip bags.


"You really need to give yourself some shut-eye, dude. This is like the fifth night in a row, do you even go to school?" Lise said as she tried to open the locked door. 


"No, I'm not registered to a school... Also thank you for letting me stay at your apartment, Lise." 


"Like I've said for the two hundred and sixty-fifth time as well as the very first day... Not a problem, Steph. You don't have to keep repeating that once a day."


"Oh, s-sorry. Should I just go to bed then?" Stephanie said with a slight yawn.


"Nope! You're going to be punished! For giving me sleep troubles for five times back to back, I'm ordering you to go to the convenient store and buy me a soda. The store opens at six, so lucky timing." 


"I hate outside, though! Anything but that, Lise! Please!" 


"No buts! Make it an actual Coke, please. I've drank too many Sam Colas in my lifetime. It's either that or actual chores, what will it be, Steph?"


"...Fine." Stephanie slowly got out of her bed and the sound of crunching chip bags and kicking of bootleg-branded soda cans can be heard from the other side of the door. A large thud hit the floor, as Lise assumed Steph had fallen into the darkness. Which had happened, so Steph picked herself up and unlocked the door. She covered her eyes from the light of the apartment.


"Reality burns, doesn't it, kiddo?" Lise said as she flicked off a few chip bags that imprinted on Steph's star-covered pajamas before giving her a rusted bottle cap. The bottle cap had a drawing of a character who dreamed of becoming the best ninja in the world within its closing side.


"Another one of these bottle caps before 'the world turned dumb,' Lise?" Stephanie stared intently toward the bottle cap's drawing, especially toward the character's obnoxiously orange hair.


"That's exactly that, and that's how you're getting the Coke. It'll only work if the cutie with the blue baseball cap is around, though. Kid is obsessed with bottle ca- Oh! It's also Wednesday, so the baseball kid's favorite show will come out with a new episode. That means you can get two Cokes for just one bottle cap! Go, go! Shoo!" Lise grabbed and pushed Steph toward the stairs as Steph tip-toed down the stairs with the chance of falling down in her mind. 


Steph clumsily, yet successfully went down the stairs and looked back at Lise. "I'll be back, then." She said as hit herself on the door while moving forward. She quickly regained herself and quickly opened and closed the door behind her. 


With a deep breath, she moved slowly toward the convenient store across the street with one hand covering herself from the rising sun, and the other gripping intently on the sharp jagged ring of the bottle cap in her pocket.

 

[Gabe]

Diego Madrigal


6:00 - Sunset Apartments


The alarm rung like a riot in the bedroom, but Diego could barely register it. Sprawled on the "workshop" table - actually just a part of the living room dedicated to his repairs -, an old TV open beside him, he was only awake by the annoying birds outside of his window. Opening his eyes, he slowly raised his head, looking at his surroundings. The TV was almost fixed, but he needed another red electrode for it. The client wanted the TV today, saying something among the lines of "The game is this evening, and I don't want to watch at Pauling's house again!" so Diego's only way to finish it on time was to work it overnight.


Raising from the creaking old chair, he yawned and stretched, the makeshift bed giving the boy a stiff neck. He gave the TV a last look before going to the kitchen for his morning routine. A cereal bowl for breakfast, then the bathroom for a shower and brushing teeth. As he finished, he took a look at the mirror. Bags in his eyes, a tired look. The same of everyday. Pulling through college was already hard, but with the repairs he takes, along with the job at the grocery store and the repairs he made, to cover for the rent and other necessities, Diego didn't have time to rest. He turned on his own TV to hear about a terrorist attack on Compton. "Not another one," he mused to himself. Sighing, he put on a set of clean clothes and stuffed his apron on the backpack. Making a mental note to grab that electrode for the TV on the way back, he gave a last look on the apartment before going.


The place wasn't a 5 star suite, but it was perfect for a student. A small living room with a dusty old sofa with a more modern TV - Diego managed to repair it after three months and a full week's salary, after he bartered with a manager of an electronics store; the man was about to return it to the manufacturer, but Diego managed to get it for a price much lower than what it was worth - an old sofa and his workshop table - a mess of wires, components and scrap metal filled the sides, while the CRT TV on the center still open, waiting for the final piece-, a small table with two chair on the other side, and a small kitchen, equipped with a sink, a stove and a microwave, all salvaged from the trash. The corridor lead to his bedroom, and the other door led to the bathroom, all as simple as it could be. Most of the stuff here was salvaged from the trash and repaired, or bought by a lower price then repaired. His father taught him that nothing is irreparable, especially the things that mattered. Smiling at the memory, he remembered that he also needs to give a call to the family back at Watsonville, before closing the door and going to work.

 

[NarutoDeathNote]

Brandon rose from his nap slowly, his head a bit light from his lack of food. It might also be how he chose to sleep, his body bent across worn and torn cushions in a meager attempt to create some sort of mattress. Either way, his brain felt a bit spinny but that was no matter. Carefully, carefully, he braced his body against the wall and lifted himself to his feet. Not because of his head, but because the streets were a dangerous place. The people here were dangerous. He's already been on the unfortunate end of an altercation once before and he was determined to not let it happen again.


He reached out and cautiously grasped the doorknob and, after a quick intake of breath, opened the door to find...


Nothing. No one. Just him and an abandoned building. Relieved, he sighed and took a moment to really absorb the place. From the looks of the broken down machinery, it appeared to be a laundromat. Rows of washers lined the middle of the main room, although several had been tipped and their mechanical innards strewn across the floor. The dryers, on the other hand, were embedded in the wall itself but their glass doors were shattered or in some cases missing altogether. From his position he could make out something large in the corner but, oh damn, he just couldn't make it out. Ducking low, Brandon moved across the floor dodging the scattered metal bits and shattered glass. He smiled for a brief moment.


"Hey, I've gotten pretty good at th--"


Crrrruuunnnnchh.


His feet found shattered glass that he missed. By the looks of it, it was a wonder how he managed to get so far in the first place without making sound. It was everywhere. A quick scan found flooring far from any noticable noisy things and so, with another quick intake of breath, he took large but slow steps out of the glass, praying deeply that no one heard him. Although the distance was a mere 5 ft, it took 20 precious minutes to escape the glass shards. So much for his curiosity. And for what? A...something...he didn't know what. It was some weird machine with poles and horses. He'd never seen something so strange before. A slow heat spread over his face as realization hit him. It was a carousel. He had risked his life for a child's machine. Well, maybe "risked his life" was a bit much, but it felt that way to him. He was only in this building in the first place as an attempt to hide. Hopefully whoever was chasing him wasn't around or that'd be it.


He eyed his immediate surroundings for something, anything that would validate this risk. Near the opposite wall he spotted what appeared to be...a radio? A slightly quicker pace carried him over near the dryers, his fingers wiggled in the air. This might be something of value. Lowering to his knees, he surveyed the damaged equipment in the slivers of light that shone through the boarded windows. It appeared functional. All the knobs and buttons present, the speakers weren't...too damaged. The ante..."Ah dammit all." The antenna was broken in half.


"No one's going to buy this piece of shit. Does it even work?" His enthusiasm slowly turning into disappointment, he flipped the radio over to reveal old and somewhat corroded batteries filling the slots at the base of the radio. With a fuckall attitude, he placed the radio onto the ground, lowered the volume and flipped the switched.


Static. Slowly with one hand he adjusted the stub of an antenna while making minute adjustments to the channels, his ear close to the speaker, but all he could find was audio snow.


"SCHHhhchcchchhhCHCHhshhcHSHCchshchcH..."insugents executed aft..."


"Wait, what was that?" Brandon closed his eyes and listened intently, his hands making near microscoping adjustments in an effort to find some stability from the broken down radio.


"Shshchhshchshcs...explosives used....lives of twenty-seven civilians"...sscshhchshshshschhHchschsh"


"You piece of shit!" shouted Brandon as he shoved the radio across the room, the batteries popping from their housing at it struck the wall. It took him a moment to realise the noise he made. His heart pounding, he darted for what was originally his makeshift bedroom: the closet. Inside, he found the broken handle of a broom he held for safety reasons. Quickly he snatched it from the floor and bolted to the exit. No need to worry about sound now.


He held his breath when opening the door...and found no one. Just the cool morning air across his face. His hands slightly sweaty, he placed the handle under his shirt and beneath his pants waistband. After moving his thinning hair from his face, he darted from the building and into the nearest alley.

 

[CapricornHunter]

She should really stop watching the news while eating breakfast.


Mariana stared down at her bowl of cereal as the TV quietly continued to update her on the latest goings on in life. She had to admit that it was tiring, hearing this kind of thing all the time, but it was something you got used to. Mariana chose to treat situations like the one that occurred this morning as just another normal thing. It helped to distract her.


Finishing her small breakfast and putting the bowl away, she packed up her things and made her way to work. It was yet another distraction for her, one that proved quite effective. Mariana enjoyed it, and having her own business filled her with a rare sense of pride. It was an accomplishment to say the least, and that she enjoyed her work made the deal even sweeter.


Despite the distraction, Mariana kept thinking about the footage she saw on the news. It was disturbing to say the least, but with everything that had happened in the world the past few years, it wasn't really surprising. Even with the doom and gloom, Mariana still felt ok most days and focused on the important things in her life. 


She soon arrived at the shop, checking her pockets for her keys before finding them and unlocking the door. She liked getting up early to avoid rushing. Then she could take her time setting up and still have a few minutes to herself before officially opening the store. She was hoping for a quiet day, but the events from the morning reminded her that anything could happen.

 

[CaR_HoPPeR]

@Fading Echo


Audi 6:47 am


"Alright you bitch, whatever you got in that bag or your life." A vagrant announced gruffly as he tapped his warped and bent aluminum baseball bat to his bandaged hands. The other one convulsing tensely, her hand wielding the knife shakier than her persons as she stared the back of Audi's head.


Audi was in a bad alley in a bad time, the homeless drunkenly sleeping paying them no mind as both of these muggers cornered her in the particularly dirty alley between the quaint houses. The dumpsters and wooden utility pole of yesteryear being the typical fauna for such pathways.


"I'm serious lass, you either give me what's left or me and her is gonna give you the one-two." He frowned, putting the bat on his broad shoulder.


"Yea don't keep us waitin', or ya'll get the Swatter and Slice Special!" She grinned a broken smile.


"Like my compadre here, I suggest you don't keep us waitin'." The other mugger persistently frowning, glancing at Audi for a response.




@Swindle


Odella 7:24 am


"She fookin' mental?"


Odella stopped immediately as an Olympian security guard asked its partners obnoxiously loud, voice distorted from its face visor. One of them shrugged it's blackcurrant helmet as the other one sighed tiredly. Odella stopped in her tracks as three Olympian guards were leaning on their black fortified Olympia sponsored SUV parked near the intersection of Gridley Road and 183rd Street, the large shopping centers and plazas blatantly filled with vehicular traffic going in and out of parking lots back and from the streets. Odella noticed their arm patches with their numbers 904, 923 and 10. as she got a barrage of questions and accusations:


"You from here miss? I suggest you go walk somewhere before we have a reason to go on you and you get reported and deported out of your residence." 923's distorted tone was still clearly vindictive with feminine notes as 102 took its turn to sigh.


"We're on break miss, so we got no grounds to prosecute you since you're just walking and all." 102 distorted politely to Odella as its two coworkers were glaring at him.


"Got enough for loiterin'." 904 grumbled, it's cockney accent apparent even with its distorted censorship.


"Hey now, she ain't doing wrong!" 102 replied furiously,


“Course she did, she’s wasting our time now!” 923 laughed, its voice crackling.


“Lookie here lass, just give us whatever you got that calls you a person in these parts and we’ll think about… If you’re really free to go or not.” 904 mockingly asked Odella as 102 seemed to tense up in its black padded uniform.




@Byatis


Carter 7:42 am


Carter’s only thought that went through his mind was the wooden plank that hit him plainly in the face.


WHAM!


Carter woke up slightly with his chest on the ground and his hand outstretched at where his wallet was. Due to an obligation concerning a proposition of a plank and some tribute, the intense ringing to his ears and his head pranged and cracked with pain as he tried not to pass out from his head injury.


His vision was disarrayed due to the swing, giving Carter’s peripheral vision of blurred chain-linked fences and cracked tarmac with an ominous short figure leaning on a blurred fence playing with his wallet and the other one Carter felt searching his still conscious body. His ears began to regain its composure, the ringing subsiding slowly.


“Yo, keep checkin’ his body! Peeps these days get crafty.” Muffled a voice as Carter felt hands on his back, groping at his flesh harshly through his shirt.


“Sheeit, this boy be hiding some dough!” One of the voices laughed with a slap to the back of Carter’s head. He felt some of his bags taped to his persons being taken to him, the tape wrapped around the bags ripped harshly from the side of his ribs and on top of his spine.


“Stupid bitch! Don’t try to be all sneaky when ya’ll fucking packed like this. Gotta share ya hear?” It laughed once more, giving another slap to Carter’s head.


“Yo, we gotta leave!” A voice afar yelled to the other two.


“Who it be?”


“It’s-” It tried to answer but Carter could only hear the scuffling of shoes running away from his body. Carter didn’t know how much time passed until a old gravely voice seem to tense his body even worse than the pain:


“Boy, you’ve seen better days have ya?” Carter could almost read his smile from the man’s tone. Carter can hear the old man tossed back his bags of currency to the ground.


“I’ve got some of it back for ya, but I ain’t as fast as those kids who got you.” The man’s voice drew closer to Carter, hearing the methodical metallic clanks to the asphalt and the scuffling of worn sneakers.


“Now get up, I ain’t here to rob a body or nothin’.” The man sighed, getting one of Carter’s arms so he can stand up. Carter’s vision slowly came back to normal, both of them shaded from the large fence.


He finally looked at his savior, a skinny bearded old man using Carter’s arm and a crowbar as support for his limping leg. The old man’s eyes scanned to the two plastic bags he has left on the ground and one of the robbers was writhing on the ground as it coughed up blood, its hood concealing the back of its head.


“What’s your name boy?” The old man asked, walking slowly at the coughing robber.

@ShinJix
​

Stephanie 6:32 am


Between on snack aisles of the  Cerritos Market and Liquor, Stephanie was on the floor after an array of gunshots rang through the store.  She was gripping the glass bottles of soda tightly as she heard the cashier and the armed robber discussing politely about transactions.


“Yo cus, give me that cash before you get a heater to the dome man.” Said the kid with the revolver, voice muffled from the bandana wrapped around its mouth as it pointed at the cashier. The cashier’s blue cap was stomped by the kid’s boot and the cashier’s forehead looked more bruised than before. The cashier began scampering in his register, the coins rang through the store as they dropped frequently from the cashier’s hands.


“Take yo time man, not like the dem vans be coming from here no more.” The kid with the gun smiled underneath his mask as he leaned on the counter and put his revolver back into his pants, the cashier trying to find what’s left of his register.


“And that package too while you’re at it.” The kid muffled at the frightened cashier.


“What packa-” The cashier started, getting his shirt pulled from the robber and a smack was heard.


“You knows what I’m sayin’. The re-up.” The robber replied as Stephanie could hear the cashier whimpering from the pain.


“Okay! Okay!” The cashier cried, his scampering turning louder than before.


“I said to take your time you stupid-” The robber yelled as Stephanie heard one of the cans fell abruptly from another aisle.


The commotion went completely silent, only the scrapping of boots and a hammer cocked. Stephanie could hear the footsteps drawing closer to where she was.

@Raizel
​

Diego 7:00 am


Diego was sitting on the curb among similar men with similar ethnicity, the checkpoint filled with too many sentries as it should be: the checkpoint was filled with the iconic armored vans as the guardians left and right were protecting the wooden barriers that blocked pedestrian and vehicular traffic, the loud consistent horns intransitive of the muttering of the curious crowd. The small street was bustling in activity creating more commotions around the small houses.


Among one of them next to Diego was torn into a bloody mess from batons, face unidentifiable when his identification card and permits flew off his hands when the batons hit him. The victim next to Diego had its back straight, almost knocked out of conscious as it wavered in its lack of balance. He was lucky enough not to get such a submission from the checkpoint sentries like the man next to him as being restrained and alive was better than being beaten to an unrecognized pulp and still being restrained.


“So as that gentleman is about to fall from his own stupidity. Listen up. We’re looking for anyone affiliated to the South American Coalition Forces, or SACF for short.” The guard’s distorted lecture was met by sneers of the restrained as they only listened to the translator who donned the same black donned gear and visor. The translator nodded to the lecturer to continue.


“You don’t need to reaffirm your positions here gentlemen, but I suggest you either tell us what we need to know before we pull all of you to deportation.” The guard patiently waited until the translator finished repeating what it said as the restrained began yelling in fear.


“So you already know that deportation is in itself a death sentence. Now-” The guard got interrupted by a Lincoln Town Car driving through the checkpoint, as a woman got out of the car, Diego seeing the green O shaped olive leaves on the door as she got out.


He noticed her finesse in the drab and constricted clothing of the dark blue business jacket and skirt ensemble as she pulled her ponytail to the side. The guards began to salute her as she looked away from the soon deportees, talking to one of the guards with the three stripes on its armored arm. The guard nodded and put four fingers in the air as the guards kept their saluting position. The sentries stomped their boots and stopped saluting, giving space to the deported. The woman began to walk to the each of them, Diego began to hear mutters of inquiries than threats from the woman as the guards began to glanced back to the streets then back to the deportees.


She ignored the bloody mess with a strained expression on her face as she passed to Diego. The woman pulled her skirt slightly to kneel down to his position. Her pale face was round tapered to a sharp chin as her eyes seem more tired than usual yet still had that piercing green sheen as the strands of her brunette ponytail lay astray from the early morning.


“Do you know anything about the SACF?” She asked him in English, she looked away as she pondered.


“Se Habla Español?” She asked again, this time more strict.


@NarutoDeathNote


Brandon 7:00 am


As Brandon kept running, He ran across the street and put his back onto a corner of a wall, surveying the scene. He carefully glanced through what appeared a checkpoint of the familiar Olympian vans with its assortment of the guards and its barriers, creating unnecessary traffic for the pedestrians and vehicles alike on the small street.  Brandon noticed one of the bums with her bagged bottle stinked of rum as she watched the scene closely while she sat on one of the steps of the storefront adjacent to Brandon. Her face was unusually clean for a bum: creating a contrast of her dirt grimed coat and pants to her pristine face while her black hair was still nappy.


“Man… One of them got beat pretty hard.” She muttered to herself as she took a sip of her drink. Her heavy lidded eyes were not dilated like the rest of the bums Brandon have met nor did she looked tired enough to be a bum.


“Oi, come here.” She called to Brandon.


“I got something to ask of ya.” She smiled as she lay her bottle to the cement, crossing her legs.


@CapricornHunter


Mariana 6:30 am


Just when Mariana was about sit down on her stool of her workbench, An angry stout man opened the door furiously, knocking the bell up in the air as it rang loudly. He was holding a DVD recorder that she just repaired months ago. Possibly already out of her warranty policy. Behind him was another man adorned with a worn brown duster who walked patiently and waited patiently behind the frustrated man, whistling a familiar tune Mariana catched.


Before Mariana could greet the stout man politely, he already started his diatribe.


“Excuse me miss, but this DVD recorder doesn’t work no more. Think it’s jammed like it was before and I want a refund from this repair. I don’t think I like to spend money where it don’t even been fixed!” The man’s spittle almost landed on Mariana’s face as the other man grinned at the debacle, still whistling as he browsed through the hanged miscellaneous audio peripherals across the counter.



“So either give me my money back and give me another DVD recorder!” The stout man demanded, putting his DVD recorder on the counter.

 

[Gabe]

Diego Madrigal


7:00 - Checkpoint


Diego couldn't help but to feel sorry for the poor man. What if it was him? Beaten and restrained while going to work, being a suspect of something that he didn't do, it filled him with sadness and fear. Fear. It was the buzzword for the media recently, fear of new attacks, fear of the gangs, fear of terrorism, fear of so many things, and all that fear explained this aggressiveness, this brutality, this... everything. He snapped out of his trail of thought when an unknown person knelt before him. Her clothes stood out from the rest of the guards, and Diego, while looking at her face, could only think of her as "cute".


"I-I'm born and raised in the USA, ma'am. I don't have any information regarding any gang on the vicinity." He rubbed off his identification documents together nervously. She seemed she was more important than the rest of the soldiers, as they saluted her. Her clothes also gave off, any guard or commander of the area was wearing full riot armor, and she was on a skirt and jacket. "I'm just a student and employee in an electronics store." He said, trying to be as less threatening as possible.

 

[CaR_HoPPeR]

@Raizel
​

Diego 7:15 am
​

The woman glanced at his identification documents and then to his face again. She nodded to his response as she stood up, ignoring Diego's documentation as she walked away from the group. She began to keep walking to her car, getting into it and the car came alive.


"Alright listen up! You're all free to go!" The lecturer announced as the other guards began to cut the zip ties from their wrists, almost all of them joyful except the body that fell head first onto the tarmac. Two guards began to carry his bloodied body into the van as the the rest of the sentries began to disperse the crowd and leaving the scene. The crowd was already dispersed once the woman had left, as if knowing that her presence is the only thing worth a black and bruised corpse in the morning. 


Only a few guards were in position as further coverage after the checkpoint, some of them fuzzily yawning out of their visors. 

 

[Lost Echo]

[SIZE=14pt]Audi, apparently, was an idiot.  [/SIZE]Truly.  It was embarrassing.  Why had she taken this alley?  Because she’d made it through the last 4 just fine?    She had a habit of parking her car away from whomever she spent the night with.  And so, she’d used a couple of shortcuts, also known as idiocy.  Thus, she should have been expecting the threat.   


[SIZE=14pt]Her mind scanned what she had on her.  [/SIZE]Most of her belongings were in the trunk of the car, still blocks away.  Instead she had her usual night stuff—lube and a couple of condoms left (thankfully what’s-his-name didn’t have much stamina), toiletries, and the clothes she wore yesterday.  She had money, but it was in expectation of losing it.  No one really believed you when you said you didn’t have anything on you.  True or not, it just led them to looking harder.  Even the filter and oil were not too much of a loss.  Only the papers.  The papers were of importance.  Technically she’d still be registered.  Maybe she could get another copy on her own.  If she went back to Last Night, he’d likely think she was attached.  Or worse.


[SIZE=14pt]Knowing not to waste time, she spoke, keeping her voice level, though letting the caution show, “Alright, bod(1)”  [/SIZE]As she turned around slowly, her palms raised, though she didn’t lift her arms, she scanned the grungy alley.  There was a man—passed out or drunk, it didn’t matter.  He was nothing more than an obstacle and probably not enough to trip them up.  Otherwise, there was just a dumpster and grime.  All alleys looked the same to her—gross.  She didn’t might getting dirty—working with cars was never clean—but her shoes were sticking to the pavement.  How drunk did that guy have to be to sleep on it?


[SIZE=14pt]Her eyes took in the two muggers quickly.  [/SIZE]The man might be a chancer(2), but that wasn’t a problem.  You just had to make them want something other than violence.  It was the one with the shakes that worried her.  She hated drugs.  After being dosed too many times—and once was too many—she’d never willing take more than bunk(3).  She had a bag of it, maybe that’d be enough to distract.  She hated how unpredictable druggies were.  


[SIZE=14pt]“C-can I keep the bag?”  [/SIZE]Her voice was pitched higher, as if in fear, acknowledging their control but also its lack of worth.  It was stained and ratty.  The straps were more duct tape than the original fabric and grease and oil from her work had stained the original grey mottled and dark.  She started to shake slightly as she pulled her pack off one shoulder, using her thigh to keep it steady.  She allowed herself to fumble once with the zipper, before it slid smoothly open. The wallet was easy to find—an obnoxious pink.  Still, she took a moment to reopen the bottle of motor oil—ostensibly looking for it—before pulling the wallet out.  She was careful to keep her leg steady to not spill the oil.  There was a chance she wouldn’t have to use it.   Maybe they’d be satisfied with the wallet and weed. 


[SIZE=14pt]“H-here.”  [/SIZE]She tossed it to them awkwardly, closer to the man, but between them both.  Her gasp was loud and she stumbled backward, “I—I’m sorry!”  Her voice sounded desperately, and she dug into her bag, frantically this time.  There was enough in it to keep the oil from spilling.  Then she pulled out a small plastic bag, the marijuana easily identifiable.  It was fairly full, she usually only smoked to get through a less pleasant night than the one before.  Again, she tossed it.  The moment the bag left her hand, she thrust it into her pack again, wrapping her fingers around the bottle of oil.


[SIZE=12pt]1) Bod is an Irish term for male genitalia.  [/SIZE]It’s apparently pronounced “bud.” 


[SIZE=12pt]2) Chancer—someone who would do anything to get what they want.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=12pt]3) Bunk is a Midwestern American slang term for cannabis.[/SIZE]


((I have never been to Ireland or the Midwest.  It’s possible these are incorrect.))

 

[CaR_HoPPeR]

@Fading Echo


Audi 6:50 am


The man with the bat motioned his partner with a nod. She nodded as well as she drew close to Audi, her knife still in her hand as she only took the wallet. 


"No need for the grass. Or the wallet." The man laughed as the shaking girl threw back Audi's wallet to the ground, getting the remainder of her currencies.


"You have a good morning." His scarred face smiled as he was about to walk away from Audi, his partner doing the same. 

 

[Lost Echo]

[SIZE=18.6667px]Well.  That was...unexpected.  Audi kept her gaze on the pair as the walked away.  She reached out with her foot, sliding the bag toward herself.  She gave a glance toward the passed out guy, who didn't seem to have moved, before doing the same with the obnoxious wallet.  Still expecting some sort of trick, she squat to pick up each.  The wallet was sticky, but that would make it even more unpleasant to steal in the future.  She let herself back against the nearest dumpster, before carefully reaching into her bag.  As they pair was out of range by now, she recapped the oil container quickly.  The wallet was wrapped in the shirt she'd worn the day before, to keep it from sticking to the papers.  The weed was dropped in beside it.  After zipping it up quickly, she was quick to leave the alley.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=18.6667px]She felt more conspicuous now.  There wouldn't be any more shortcuts for her walk.  Luck was with her that time, but she knew not to push it.  She had no more money to give another mugger.  Perhaps she would start carrying a second set.  She wasn't sure she could afford that. [/SIZE]

 

[Swindle]

Odella sighed somewhat. She didn't expect to get stopped by a bunch of goofy-looking bulky people, and in addition to that most of their angry-sounding talking was lost on her. All she could think about was how they looked very silly with their cartoonish, tacky clothing. She also noted the numbers on their arms, finding it rather cute that they'd all walk around with stuff like that in uniform. 

Something about handing over stuff to prove that she lived here managed to cross her ears in her short attention span, however.

"Ah! Well, yes. Father said to carry these around in case I got stopped by people in funny clothes like yours." Reaching into the singular pocket on her blue knee-length skirt, she pulled out a wallet and some folded up pieces of paper. "I don't remember which one it is though, so just take these until you find the right one and give me back the rest, alright?" She put on a big smile as she held the various things out at the bulky people.

"Also, why are you guys wearing all of that? It's pretty hot out here, and you just look very strange too! I've never seen someone wear a mask like that either. I really think you should wear something lighter before you get heatstroke or something!" Her voice went from questioning to concerned in only a few moments as she awaited their response. 

 

[Byatis]

C. STROUD
​

Norwalk > Cerritos
​

8:02 AM
​

 
​

Carter watched as the old man walked towards the remaining attacker. "Uh, Cart-", he trailed a bit before getting his bearings. After a second, he tried again. "My name is Carter."


He picked up the money in front of him and shakily stood up. The old man looked like he had been here for awhile. He couldn't find a reason why the guy would take his time to help him, but appreciated it none-the-less. However, Carter was skeptical. Nope. Not the time for that. Pushing his negative thoughts aside, he approached the old man and coughing robber.


"Thanks for helping me. You can have this." Carter offered as he held out the money that the man had retrieved for him. "My sister sends me care packages, so money aint as hard for me to come by as others. Besides, they aint got it all and I have some away for rainy days in my work locker."

 

[CaR_HoPPeR]

@Swindle


Odella 7:25 am


904 and 923 kept quiet as 102 laughed with his distortions. 102 took her documentation, glanced at it and passed it back.


"It's not too bad with the gear. Air conditioned and what not. Besides black is the new vogue, Miss." He tapped the side of his helmet, which automatically opened his visor. He had an olive face with thin eyebrows, with thinner eyes. His nose short and his smile appeared mirthless but his eyes told Odella he was sincere. Overall his face conflicted the entire black ensemble.


"See, We got faces and all-"


"Oi, ain't that against protocol?" 904 asked him, awkwardly stomping his bulky armored boots to gain better composure. 


"Bite me. I've been a local for years and been a guard for 2 months. I can do both of your jobs easily." 102 snapped back. 


"Well while you boys are fighting all ladylike, I got to go heed the call of the people. Got an reported armed robbery, anyone in?" 923 replied sarcastically, as she got in the SUV.


"Better than talking to Newbie here." 904 scoffed, accompanying his partner. "Later, lassies." He waved as he tapped the vehicle with armored fingers.


As they drove out the intersection with the traffic automatically pulling over, not wanting to intrude the honest day's work of Olympian Security, 102 sighed and tapped his helmet again, looking at Odella with his visor again.


"Don't worry about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. They got assigned to this sector just a week ago and they think they got seniority cause they were mercs. Least they can follow the streets somewhat." 102 scoffed, leaning his body onto the traffic light post. 


"Unless you like some chatter in the future, holler at me. I'm stuck in this patrol til next year." He yawned statically. 


"If not, then go on walkin'... And sorry about those two. You get more outsiders trying to understand California than actual locals these days." 102 added, even with the static there were hints of shame and guilt.




@Byatis


Carter 8:02 am


The old man with the crowbar ignored the money, crouching down at the young robber. 


"No need to tell me your life story where your money is. I could've just mugged you right here and asked for those locations." He replied, getting his crowbar high into the air and giving a rapt strike to the robber's head with the curve of his crowbar. The robber slouched in his already downtrodden pose, knocked out.


"That should be it. Got one of these alleyways cleared for the week." He laughed happily, coughing as happily as well. He stood up slowly and looked at Carter, wearing a patterned bandanna around his brown face and a worn beret wore crookedly on his balding head. His cold eyes bore into the young man as the old man gained his composure, slamming his crowbar into the tarmac.


"Name's Double-U. Part-time bounty hunter and retired criminal." Double-U laughed hoarsely. 


"Hell of a title ain't it?" He kept laughing, using his crowbar as support for his rambunctious guffaws. After his fit of laughter, he took a deep breath and asked Carter with a neutral tone and expression.


"Now... Why you in my alleys? You know it's before check day so everyone scampering to get some unwarranted money." Double-U revealing two foreign wallets, possibly from the kids who mugged Carter.


"See? Got my pay, so keep your damn money to yourself. You're gonna need it when the bough breaks." He frowned, turning his whole body to face Carter with much difficulty, the crowbar scraping loudly from the ground.