The Impetus of Insolence [Inactive]

[Hatchet]

Hatchet submitted a new role play:


The Impetus of Insolence - When pursuing a car thief wakes a sleeping dragon.

When you woke up this morning, did you expect to stalked? Or robbed? Even murdered? The narrative of this story will incorporate all three of these crimes and more. Are you the victim? The investigator or reporter? The witness? Are you the perpetrator?


Everyday, for at least few moments, we walk into someone else's life; for most...

Read more about this role play... 
Tap-tap-tap-tick. Tap-tap-tap-tap-taptick. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tick. Pros: stress relief; better for Allison, lighter sentence—Ava crossed that one out. Made curling scribbles over it and crossed it out again. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tick. Cons: probably never see Allison again; Allison would be alone; Jiggy would hate me; I’d be in—Ava crossed that out, the same way. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tick. Cons: would they kill me? Pros: They’re probably going to kill me anyway.


Just as Jiggy stomped into the office, Ava ran the notebook sheet through the paper shredder. “What’s that?” She shrugged. Nothing. “Whatever have you called your friend yet? I need to know if he’s going to match the scrapper’s price.” He meant Zwei and Ava wasn’t sure she’d call him a friend, but didn’t argue the point. He paid more for steel and iron when she talked to him, anyway. “Seriously, call him, would you?”


Tap-tap-tap-tap-tick. Sure. Click.


“You look like shit, Ava, what’s up with you?” She hadn’t slept a full three hours in nine days. Allison was having nightmares. She was having nightmares, they just didn’t wake her screaming. There was a stolen engine covered in the bed of her brother’s truck, waiting for the broken engine of a ’53 Fiat 8V to come out and make room. Her secretly brilliant brother was going to make it run with a One:1 V8. Yeah. She told him the coffee wasn’t strong enough. “You make it next time, priss. Call that guy.”


In good time. As soon as he ducked back into the garage, Ava put the ‘out to lunch’ sign up, grabbed her purse and scurried out the door. It was just after eleven, it was practically a useable excuse. Forward and right was campus. Allison had pleaded with her to go. Forward and across the street was the bus stop that would take her north, home. Forward and left was Checkmate. When she got to the end of Adkins, she turned east. That’s almost always what she did. Checkmate carried a narrow selection of jewelry and Ava was trying to find the perfect piece for Allison. Something classy and old, good condition but with character. Allison liked used things with character.


Before going in, she put ear buds into the appropriate socket and tucked the jack into her pocket. Then she waved at the owner behind the counter and bent to look at the jewelry. Some of the schmuck looked like real old gold with gems clouded by age, but nothing just said, ‘Allison, I love you this much.’ If only she liked cars, Ava could have given her the perfect gift years ago. Disappointed again, she waved a second time and left without anything.


From the bus window she saw three cars just begging to be snagged and bit down the impulse to hop out and take less public transport. She didn’t think she needed that stress of a thrill just then.


Home was cheerfully blooming with lavender, protected irises and yellow tomato flowers. Plum blossoms were starting to turn out in the back and Ava suspected they would be under a rain of pecans again. Inside the house was cool and dim though it was climbing towards 80 F outside. All the blinds were drawn and Allison had laid on top of a pile of clean laundry. She was sleeping, but her face was scrunched in discomfort. She twitched and groaned when Ava eased in to lay partly on top of her, but didn’t properly wake up, so Ava used her hip as a pillow and waited with eyes half-shut. Tick. Tick.


*


@TheKaosophile

 

[The Kaosophile]

Zach was making full use of the free Wi-Fi in Cafe Galactic by searching for small, individually owned garages and car maintenance shops around the country, spotting a few nearby. If he was lucky enough to find the missing cars anywhere, he would need to glean information from the local chop shops... and not get shot along the way. He realized going to every single sketchy car shop himself would take too much time, so he logged on to his blog, and began typing:


Hello again, vigilant civilians, you all may have heard of the recent theft of a dozen prototype cars going missing, and the government isn't letting anyone know any details of the investigation, so I am asking the brave among you to seek out individually owned and operated car repair centers, as these may be sites of illegal housing, stripping, and selling of stolen cars, and if there is information related to the whereabouts of the stolen vehicles, it would be with people who have experience stealing cars. Do not sit idly by as parties unknown threaten our security, find the perpetrator(s), and figure out how they did this. Information is our greatest weapon against the evils of society: Arm yourselves well.


Zach looked at the nerds, geeks, and hipsters that bustled through occasionally to quench their thirsts as they pore over their recently purchased graphic novels, listening closely to their conversations when two of them got over the social anxiety caused by the thought of human communication. One interesting thing caught his ear:


"...left you a gold watch?"


"But took my replica phaser..." The man leaned closer to his friend and whispered "Should I report it? I need to pay last month's rent AND this month's rent by next week or I'll be evicted, but that phaser was limited edition, and a gift from my dad..."


Not sure about you, but I would report it Zach thought to himself smugly In fact: I will report it. Zach sneakily snapped a picture of the man, and sent it to Detective Thorne, with whom he had a tacit knowledge-sharing agreement, with the message "Victim" of the Giving Thief, any gold watches reported missing? Zach paid for another coffee and a scone to go and set off for the supermarket to pick up some extra groceries his mother requested, then he would hit up one of the three local potential chop shops, one of which was near the market, one of which was by the old pawn shop, and the third of which was in the ghetto side of town. Zach hoped his chubby, white self wouldn't have to go to the slums, but if it came to it, Zach was determined to get the info he wanted.


*


@Grin

 

[Ozmic]

Into The Fray

​

A call. That's what had started off the day to such a start. But, surprisingly, I wasn't suffering as much as I'd like to lead myself to believe. Curiosity hung over my head like a boulder. If Watterson was so eager to get me there, it was bound to be something important. Not that other calls didn't come, but something about the sickening amount of need in the other's voice made me wonder if it would be one of those cases. Something where I'd be able to get right down into the thick of it and get my hands dirty. Despite myself, I felt a grin spreading. A girl that passed me looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn't care. In this day and age, folks should consider themselves lucky to see a smile like that, sinister intentions behind it or not.


Looking up, I realized I was closer to the store than I'd thought. I scolded myself for losing track of time daydreaming, and booked it inside, holding the door open for a rough looker that smelled like he might've been a few years without the touch of soap. The smell inside was both inviting and disgusting, flooding my nostrils with the scent of fresh food mingling with the stink of other people. The whiskey in my gut churned in protest, but I kept it down like the professional I was, grabbed some things and headed to the counter.


"Pack of unfiltered," I stated plainly to the cashier, an innocent looking lass that regarded me with a look of half-familiarity and half-disdain. I could understand the feeling... I'd worked those kind've jobs for awhile and, after a time, every customer that came up to the counter was just another chip away at whatever stone you'd put up to shield you that day. She replied 'sure' and started some smalltalk. I blurred my way through it, paid and got out like a good little consumer. Hah. That's rich.


Before I could even unwrap whatever they were passing off as a 'breakfast sandwich' these days, my phone buzzed one. A feed had been updated; one from my good 'buddy' Zach and his blog. I read over it quickly, skimming the info, and stopped on the sidewalk to read it again. "Twelve #@$%in' cars? Jesus," I said aloud, looking around after a second to make sure I hadn't made too much of an ass of myself. I wondered if that was the job I'd be working on from Watt. That or something like it.


I didn't even have a chance to sigh and pocket the mobile before another buzz came through. Zach again, but this time it was direct. A picture with some info about the 'Giving Thief'. This poor sap was a victim. Balancing my 'food', I typed back a response and sent it quickly. I hated texting, but I hated talking on the phone even more. Lesser of two evils, right?


'Nothing on this end about anny watches. Will keep an ear to the ground. Read your blog. Any information you wana share about those cars Ill take. I'll see what I can find about those too'





Zach was an okay kid, in my books. Well, okay as a contact. Personally, I didn't care much for the way he lived, but who the hell was I to talk? My thoughts went back to how I'd woken up and I laughed hoarsely, biting into the greasy breakfast meat and egg that made up my breakfast. Pushing the taste out've my mouth with a cigarette, I quickened my pace and before I knew it, had arrived at the cop shop.


Pushing the front door open briskly, I made strides to the front desk, ignoring the few looks I got from both criminals and some of the blues alike. There were a lot of folks that didn't like the way I operated, but as long as Watterson kept signing the checks, I'd keep coming in to take care of the shit they couldn't. Or wouldn't. I got up to the desk and rapped on it to get the attention of the guy behind it, a young kid that looked at me like he had something to prove. I didn't recognize him... must've been a new blood. Young punk, trying to give me that tough-guy glare.


"I'm here for Watterson." It was all that had to be said. The kid looked confused for a second, then looked back to his office and back to me. He started going off about how the chief was busy all day and not to be interrupted. "Why don't you go ahead a page him for me, sport," I replied, ice in my words that I didn't bother to thaw. "Watts called me this morning, I'll be damned if he changed his mind in an hour."


@Greyathena

 

[Greyathena]

For Brent it was another unproductive afternoon following loose threads on the Giving Thief case. It seemed that nobody was interested in saying more than they had and with the tenuous new leads and tangled motives of all those involved- victims and robber alike meant Brent was stuck in the office pouring over the case files once again.


Of course he knew exactly why it was him who was stuck chasing down the meandering and often dead-end leads in this case. He’d been working on the case since the new year and he was not closer to actually solving the case than he was on day one. Instead, he was stuck with folders full of victim reports and photographs of stolen items. For all of the evidence not a single usable print had been found.


He sat at his desk reading over the latest report, the surface covered in papers and photographs of the items, some of the photographs were taken of the items in situ, exactly where they were left, but in most cases curious victims had moved them upon discovery. His phone rang.


It was Jared another with another stolen item, Brent listened to the pawn broker talk and twirled a pen between his fingers. He hoped this would be the lead that could close the case, but wasn’t optimistic. As the weeks dragged on he was getting more and more frustrated with the futile work. He told the kid he would be there in an hour to take his statement and pick up the evidence . Brent stretched and and gathered the papers into one pile.


“Chief” He took a step back and nodded at the man he had nearly collided with in the doorway as he looked over his shoulder at his desk.


“Detective Masten” He nodded. “Any luck on the Giving Thief case?” Watterson added with a small smirk. The expression was barely visible but it pissed Masten off, that smug satisfaction that his punishment case was driving Masten up the wall seemed to permeate the Chief’s demeanor each time he spoke with Brent.


“Nothing yet, Jared just called with more evidence. I’m heading down there now.” Brent told him curtly.


“You might have to hold off on that, Harrison’s out on comp with a GSW and in light of recent evidence we’re reopening the Wasserburnde Case. I’m reassigning you.”


-----


The case file was thick, despite office rules he took it home with him that night. Now this was a case in which his contacts could be useful. Most of the other detectives were working on the hottest new case- the car heist, and Brent knew he wouldn’t get assigned to anything so active, still he wondered how Watterson was doing it with so few detectives on the force. Brent had thought he would at least be assigned to grunt work in the Heist case, but instead he got this.


He opened the case and flipped through. Several of the students and colleges had given character statements, there was a copy of the school newspaper- all of the things you’d suspect in a disappearance and later a suicide. It was clear that most of Brent didn’t think this was a suicide, in fact he was sure it wasn’t.


@ninbinz

 

[ninbinz]

His shop had been busy and he wasn't even an hour in, both Tasha and Michael were on the counter with him. Many left without buying anything but just as many left with one purchased item in their possession. Most came to ask him whether he had anything of particular interest in stock. Unfortunately for most of those customers he was sadly without. Jarrod took note of a woman looking at the jewelry sections. He was going to ask her if she wanted to look at anything in stock but the moment he turned away she had gone and he had lost a sale. Losing a sale was not at the top of his list of favorite things to happen. In fact, it was his least favorite. Right next to being burned alive. The loss put him in a bad mood.


His bad mood had worsened as the day wore on. He was practically scowling into his coffee cup later that afternoon. For a moment he contemplated on whether he should call Brent again to warn him that his grace period would soon come to an end. He shrugged it off and stalked back inside the shop and then his office. He heard Tasha's squeaky voice behind him. "Not now Tasha!!" he bellowed before slamming the door on her. He sighed his frustration and sat at his desk. The mahogany antique was buried under paper and various nick knacks. He looked at the three items that sat in the center of his desk, they elicited a low growl from him. He knew exactly what they were and who they belonged to. They were evidence to a crime, an odd crime but a crime nonetheless. As per his agreement with Brett; he would allow the man a day's grace before he reported the items. Suddenly his scowl disappeared and e was engaged in spontaneous laughter. The owners of the items had bought in each others' stolen goods. It was divine comedy if ever he saw it.


He was closing the shop down when a sharp pain burst from the back of his head and he slumped to the ground. When he next awoke he was sitting, bound to a rather nice oak chair. His smirked, he was not even awake for longer than a minute and he was already appraising the furniture. "What do you think Mr. Harken is laughing at Mr.Eusine?" Asked a weasel toned voice. Jarrod's smirk disappeared in recognition and in its place sat a sneer. "Perhaps it is his precarious situation that entertains him so Ms. Zircon?" Answered a deep male voice and Jarrod's scowl had returned with a vengeance. "Oh my, it seems we've angered our guest Mr. Eusine. I wo-" "Cut the crap you low li-" -Jarrod interrupted before a cane smacked into the side of his head sending his senses reeling. "Bah!! Of all the impolite......" The deep voice grumbled angrily, no doubt stifled by the other voice. Jarrod couldn't see beyond the ring of light that surrounded him. The light above him swung ever so minutely adding to his disorientation and he slipped out of consciousness again.


Jarrod next awoke after a fall, he groaned as the pain of his injuries invaded all of his senses at once. He opened his eyes to stare at a cockroach skittering before them. With a grunt of pain he rolled over to find that he was at the foot of his own bed. "Ugh, how kind of them to hall me into bed after beating the crap out of me." He thought musingly to himself. He lurched to his feet and immediately angled himself so that his subsequent fall would render him asleep diagonally upon his bed, all thoughts of his injuries and the small cockroach infestation gone from his mind.


@Coko_Bacon

 

[Coko_Bacon]

Zwei walks in an office and sees a man, his client, in a tux and who's face is coved by the shadow of...something, Zwei doesn't know what. Zwei asks in a deep, and somewhat sarcastic, voice, "May I come in?" Nodding, the client gestures Zwei to take a seat, and he does so. Zwei crosses his legs and does that classic, bad-guy hand fiddling, "So...who's my target?" His client picks up a sketch of a man who looks about in his...early-to-late twenties. "This is your target..." Mr. Client Man said, "...he's been lat seen heading for Checkmate. Kill him, in whatever method you see fit, and report back." Zwei tilted his head and rolled his hands. He asks, "Crime, please?"


"He's The Giving Thief." Mr. Client Man replied.


Zwei squinted his eyes. "Aaaaaand WHY should I kill a THIEF?"


The client picked up a briefcase and opened it. Zwei looked at the contents and swore. There was a lot of money in that case. Bands of hundreds. The client smirked at Zwei's surprised swearing. "You'll be paid handsomely."


Zwei did a double take at the man and the briefcase, and pointed at the case. "How much is in here?"


"Seven hundred and fifty THOUSAND dollars."


Zwei swore loudly. "You must really hold grudges, or you got something planned. What did he steal from you?" The client raised an eyebrow. Zwei nodded. "You don't exactly seem the type to avenge..." Zwei cleared his throat and made air quotes. "...'commoners'. So what so you hope to gain? Vengeance, more power, something along those lines?"


Mr. Client Man laid back in his comfy leather chair...which spun around. Zwei wanted that chair real bad. The client made gestures to Zwei and himself. "The thief is reigning terror across the city. You kill the thief. I take the credit. You get paid, and leave the town, buy luxury, whatever you desire. Win, win."


Zwei couldn't really argue with that logic. He nodded and lifted his shirt, showing his symbolic scar, and infinity with a slash down the middle. "This is the symbol that tells you I did it." he took the sketch and walked out-wait...there's still one more question. "Uhhh...Mr. Client Man. What's casting a shadow over your face?" the client TOOK the shadow OFF. It was a mask. Zwei left, somewhat confused.


Midday, Saturday. Zwei was walking down the street, looking for some booze and his target. Deciding to booze first, he walked in the bar, and ordered two beers. Then he headed for Checkmate. Isn't that a pawn shop or something? While Zwei was going to enter the shop, lo and behold, his target just left. Zwei waited about a minute before following him, to not seem creepy. Zwei decided to go for the classic, 'Trick his target to an abandoned area and kill him there' trick. Zwei ran up to his target, grabbed him by the hand, and pleaded him to follow Zwei, who used the 'My lover got kidnapped. I saw the kidnapper go that way.' excuse. This must've never seen a murder mystery, because he agreed without question. Zwei led the target to the back of the alley. A dead end. Zwei couldn't help but laugh. "Damn, boy. Never thought you were THAT easy to trick." His target turned around to see Zwei armed with a large knife. Zwei smirked and punned, "Checkmate... Giving Thief." It seemed to take only a second for Zwei to stab The Giving Thief. Mr. Thief dropped on the floor with lifeless eyes. Zwei lifted the body and made it look like he was just sitting. He spray painted his symbol on the wall behind the corpse.


Zwei walked back to his apartment and sent the picture he took to his client. Zwei sat back relaxed and enjoyed his victory booze, until he got a message from his client saying that The Giving Thief is still out there, pulled off another thief-y trick, and Zwei killed the wrong guy. Infuriated, Zwei threw his phone on the couch. "Son of a BITCH!"


@Britt-21

 

[Britt-21]

Roje stood behind the counter like always. Taking care of people as they came to perchase something and leave. Standing there like a lump on a log, she watched as an old woman walked in. It was Miss Perry. A old woman who had always come to buy her favorite tea. It didnt surprise Roje that the woman loved her tea. Then again, Perry was a british-like person and loved to have her 'tea time'. Roje's brown eyes watched as Perry brought over her tea in a can


"Hello Miss Perry, how are you?" Roje asked.


"Oh i'm just splendid dear!" the woman laughed softly "Just getting my daily tea, as always." Perry smiled "How is that little boyfriend of yours, Dear?"


Roje smiled a bit as she took care of the tea "He's good. We were talking earlier about our date and all."


"Aww thats so sweet. I wish I could date boys and be as beautiful as you."


Perry was a Kind woman, and Roje loved what had always escaped from her lips. Especially the comments. "Aw Perry, come on. You're just as beautiful. You can find men for yourself you know. You're not so old you cant date anyone. You just need to find men around your age. Trust me, you'll find someone."


Perry paid for the tea, which was a dollar and she took the tea "You're such a doll, Roje. With your attitude, you'll be married before you know it."


Roje laughed softly "Thanks Perry. I'll see you soon."


Perry nodded with a small laugh as she left the store. Leaving Roje all by herself in the store once again. Everyday Miss Perry always made Roje's day unless someone ruined it afterwards. Which was sometimes. Maybe once or twice a week. But this is what Roje had to do in order for her to be an independant Investigator. Work like a normal woman would but have a hidden side about it.


Towards the end of the day, where Roje felt her phone buzz and she pulled it from her pocket, looking at the texts she got from Henry. It was weird how it was buzzing now. She started to re-read the texts she had gotten from him.


~Text Convo~


Henry: Roje! I need to have a word with you.


Roje: And what would that be?


Henry: Well, since it's been a while since we went out on a date, I was thinking maybe we could go on another one.


Roje: Oh? :wink: want me to pick where we can go?


Henry: haha, sure.


Roje: Hmmm...How about we go out bowling or maybe rollerskating?


Henry: You know I cant skate for crap! lol


Roje: Lol! You're right, but hey, it'll be fun!


Henry: :rolleyes: Alright. Know what, No! I have a better idea but I wont tell you :wink: It's a surprise.


Roje: O: You better tell me right now! D:<


Henry: Nooopeeee Sorry babe! :big grin:


Roje: :rolleyes: Yeah yeah, wait till I see ya. I'm gonna kick your butt.


Henry: Suuurree you will.


Roje: I will! Lol anyway, I need to go now, Duty calls. Love you.


**New** Henry: I love you too.


~End of Text Convo~


"Well crap. I didnt look at this when I got it?" she sighed "Oh well, i'll see him later anyhow." her shift was about to end and she was excited to get out of there. As soon as the clock rang, Roje switched with another employee and changed out of her uniform before jetting out and heading home putting her hands in her pockets. She took in a deep breath and let it out and her phone had begun to ring and she pulled it from her pocket, looking at the caller.


Instantly, Roje picked up "Hey Henry. Are you home?"


The voice on the phone was not expected "Sorry but, this isnt Henry, Ma'am."


Roje's expression went cold "Who are you and why do you have my boyfriends' phone?"


"I'm Officer Chris. We recently found the man dead outside in a alley."


Her eyes Widen "You mean...Henry was killed?"


"By the looks of it, it was a murder. I just happened to get his phone from his pocket and called the latest contact he had called. Are you 'Roje'?"


Roje nodded, "I am." she said, her heart aching as she heard the death of her boyfriend. But her expression was blank "Where is this scene, may I ask?" once the address had been given to her, she headed towards the location. Time to get to work. Damn murderer on the loose. Had to pick Henry out of all the people here.


(Sorry if this was more dialoge then story...)


@Layna

 

[ACHA]

I was just doing daily practice when one of my teammates said the coach was looking for me. He said the coach wanted to have a word with me. I was completely at a loss about what he wanted to talk with me. Was it my declination to join 'the' draft? I didn't want to over-analyze things. I wanted it to be over with quick so I walked to where he was sitting, up in the bleachers. As I drew nearer to him, he motioned for me to sit beside him. It was starting.


"Listen son, I just wanted a word with ya." he told me in a gentle manner. As he was opening, he was looking at the field. We watched as the other players were still in practice. "How are you holdin' up after all that mess with the Martin's death?" he was referring to how I was a witness to Dr. Wasserbunde's death. This honestly came as a surprise to me in more than just one way. "You just seemed out of it on the field and in practice, you know."


"I'm fine coach. I'm just tired..." it was truthfully how I felt. "I've been doing a lot of things lately. It doesn't help that there are these reporters that keep bugging me about the draft." I said afterwards. "Mix that with school and practice and I don't think I'm getting enough rest."


Coach Keaton took a good look at me before letting out a big sigh. "Just take care of yourself kid. You have a lot of potential to do anything you want." he said. "You're a good kid." he said before standing up and leaving.


I stayed for a while, taking a minute to soaking the situation. I had many things on my plate. I was tired. But I was tired for different reasons. I tried approaching everyone the 'good' doctor maligned at the university, trying to convince them to come to the light and expose the doctor. Most of them still feel the fear. Others say they aren't ready. Every single one of them is striking my nerves. It irritates me that none of them would do what's right, mostly because of some irrational emotion. I had to do something.


Aside from these useless people that wouldn't stand up for themselves, the recent developments regarding the case posed a threat for me. Someone was a step ahead of me. He was able to gather information I wanted and more. He had to present them in the most dangerous way for me. Even though I had concealed my involvement perfectly, I had to confront this person. I have to find him and make sure he doesn't dig any deeper than necessary.


If there was any consolation for Allen, it was that 'she' hasn't been calling him lately. For him, that was good. It meant that there were no hiccups and his assistance wasn't necessary.


After reaching home, he went directly to his room. He had secured a copy of the newspaper that was recalled through his own means. He had his own sources. He was setting up a plan in order to find the writer of the article. It all starts with talking to the school newspaper's editor in chief.


(I don't think this is long enough. D

 

[The Kaosophile]

Zach stayed in the cafe for another couple of hours, jotting down notes of gossip here and there, but nothing else of import came up, so he decided to call it a day. Tomorrow, those garages, and maybe the pawn shop to check for some of the Giving Thief stuff. Zach finished packing up his laptop and other personals into his Aperture Science messenger bag, then went out to his mother's crappy, old sedan and plopped himself in the driver's seat. He was about to start the car, when he saw several blue-and-whites a couple blocks up. What is happening to this town? Zach cranked the ignition several times before the damn engine finally got running, and eased his way up the street to a car lot across from the crime scene.


Zach got out and walked up to the public-access barriers getting the attention of one of the rookie officers pegged with babysitting the onlookers. "Was this another Giving Thief hit, or...?" the alley that was blocked off was hard to see into from this angle, but Zach spotted a coroner hunched over something, so Zach got his answer. "Holy shit, I knew this town was becoming crime-ridden, but murder? Jesus." The rookie nodded with a look on his face like 'Why did I take this job?'


A gurney with black plastic on it was wheeled out, and with no more corpse to see, the two or three other onlookers faded away. Damn vultures. People are sick, trying to catch a glimpse of a lifeless body. Zach stuck around until the photographers and detectives left, hoping in vain to catch a morsel of conversation about the vic or the crime itself, but everyone was very tight-lipped and professional... for once.


--(The following is purely character-developmental, feel free to skip)--


Zach went back to his mother's car, looking at the rapidly darkening sky, and deciding he had had enough excitement for the day. He drove his way home and walked in to find a note in the kitchen 'Out with the girls from Bunco, dinner is in the microwave, be back around 9. Love you. -Mom'


Zach smiled at the gesture; no judgement for missing dinner, just a plate full of food and some love. Zach wondered if she ever did stuff like this for dad. Were they lovey-dovey before he died? Zach thought, as he dug into his meatloaf in silence. He couldn't remember. Zach wished he had spent more time with his dad before the man's arteries fell and took his dad with them. His dad was a nice man: quiet, calm, knew just the right joke for any occasion, but Zach became increasingly aware since his passing that he never knew his father as a person, just as a father. He wondered if the man in the alley was a father, or a husband, or even a boyfriend. Did his family really know him? Zach finished his food and cleaned up, making a mental note to talk to his mother more, before the universe decided he didn't have enough crap going on.

 

[Ozmic]

The Chief

​

It took awhile, but finally I was called back to Watterson's office. I passed a surly looking guy that didn't seem at all pleased with what he'd been told, but I paid him little mind at first. Then I started wondering what exactly he was up to. It itched at the back of my head, even as I plopped down in the chair opposite Watt's fancier one. "And who might that be?" I questioned with a raised brow, only to be met with a gruff response and even gruffer chewing out.


I let it go on for a bit, gritting my teeth and minding my manners before I stood and gave the Chief a quick reminder why he had me on this job. "If any of your goody little pricks could handle this crap, Watts, you wouldn't have called me in to play clean-up. Cut the shit and give me what you've got, or you can find someone else to pick up your fucking messes."


That shut him up quick and I had to stifle a laugh as he shut the blinds to his office even quicker. The stares never really bothered me none, but judging from the redness on Watterson's normally smug cheeks, they bothered him plenty. Good. After composing himself, he started droning on about a case dealing with some exotic cars that were swiped. Right in plain daylight too. Ballsy bunch, I'd give 'em that.


As per usual, though, I found the chief didn't have shit to go on. There were photos and some information, but I needed more than that and, given the usual types of shit I found myself neck deep in, I'd have to get the information by getting my hands dirty again. "Look," I droned, acting as bored as I could just to get on his nerves, "Since you're not exactly giving me these things on a silver platter, I suppose you're gonna' want me to do all the legwork too, 'Boss'." I went on to explain just how much extra that'd cost and, though he paled a little a stumbled through an explanation, I knew the money'd come one way or another.


Shaking the other's hand, I exited the office and left the door open behind me, giving a sarcastic little nod and smirk to the blue-boy at the desk for giving me such a hard time, then making tracks. As soon as I set foot outside, my phone came out again. Another text to Zach.


'Need everything and i mean EVERY. THING. that youve got or can get on those cars that got swiped. Pay's good on this one kid and any little bit helps. Even a direction you can point me in to crack down on'


Hitting send, I nearly prayed that he'd have something. I was getting anxious. Between this car deal and whatever 'Giving Thief' shit Zach'd been on about earlier, I could almost taste the adrenaline starting to crash through me. Too long without a job could make a lad antsy, after-all, and having work coming in droves like this seemed just the answer I was looking for.


@Greyathena

 

[Coko_Bacon]

Zwei laid back in his bed with a beer in one hand, and the sketch of his 'target' in another. He held the picture right in front of his face, taking time to admire the artist who drew the sketch. It was so lifelike, as if the picture itself demanded a reason why he was killed from Zwei. No one was around, so he might as well answer the sketches question. Zwei's voice was low and remorseful. "Nothing personal. Just business, but nonetheless...I didn't know you were the wrong guy. I'm sorry." Zwei finished his beer, got out of the bed and hid the picture in his dresser. "Wonder if it's hit the news?" He turned on the TV and clicked the channel button until he got to the news. He could've sworn the buttons were saying mur-der, mur-der, instead of clicking. Zwei read the white words on the top of the screen, despite a newswoman announcing the murder in a typical newswoman's voice, "A man was found murdered in an alley today. The police have confirmed that this is a homicide case, and are looking into it...right away. In other news, The Giving Thief struck again, stealing-" Zwei turned the TV off. The very LAST thing he wanted to hear was The Giving Thief. Zwei sighed and looked outside. "I need some fresh air anyway."


Zwei dressed to where his whole body was covered up, for identity's sake. He grabbed a beer, a pencil, a piece of paper, and walked outside of his apartment and took a deep breath, as if hoping the natural air could cleanse his sins. He walked out of the apartment building and headed straight for Checkmate. Upon opening the doors of the pawn shop, he saw no one was at the checkout counter. He walked straight over there and started writing.


Dear Giving Thief,


You've done quite some stealing as of late, and someone's asked me to take care of that. Unfortunately, you seemed to have had a look-a-like. HAD a look-a-like. Had, because I killed him. Killed an innocent man. So now, I'm not even killing you on orders. Now, I have a score to settle with you. I'll make your death like a preview of Hell. Have a nice day.





With most love,





Zwei wrote his symbol after the 'with most love'. He walked out before anyone saw anything. "Now for a little peek at the scene." Zwei headed toward the crime scene and saw yellow tape everywhere, police stationed to keep nosey paparazzi away, and some other people taking notes regarding the scene. Zwei stood back and watched it all happen. Questions, answers, screaming, pictures, and beer. Zwei lightly pulled down his bandana, which he used to cover his mouth and nose, then took a sip of his beer. The refreshing cool helped relieve some of the stress. "Aaaahhh...that's better."


@Britt\-21

 

[Britt-21]

Roje soon arrived on the scene, seeing paparazzi, cops protecting the scenes, random people, and news reporters of the scene. So many damn people. Dont they know how to mind their own business? Big crowds were something Roje hated the most. She pushed her way through the crowd "Move please!" she yelled, getting to the front where a cop had stopped her. Just as he was about to open his mouth, she showed him her ID before he let her in.


There was Blood. On the wall and on the floor. It was a similar scene from years ago.


Instantly, she shook it off and started taking notes. Anything that could have been left behind. A piece of something. Thing was, she needed to see the body. Turning around, she went under the tape again and went to the ambulance where the body was currently being held "Open the bag." Roje demanded. But the woman seemed to reject. "I said Open it." her look was cold and she watched as the woman opened the bag but only enough to show the head "Okay look, if you dont open the bag more I'm going to do it myself."


"B-But ma'am I cant open it anymo-"


Roje opened the bag to where she saw the wound and she took notes, on how big the wound was. "Knife wound." Roje stated as she studied it, leaning close before closing up the bag. But she stopped it at his neck and she sighed softly I'll miss you so much Henry.. she thought before placing a soft kiss on Henry's cold and lifeless lips before pulling away and zipping up the bag "Thanks." was all that was said as she walked out, only to be flooded by News Reporters.


A harsh laugh came from her lips "Alright, look, Want to know what happened? He was stabbed. In the right place too to be a instant death." what questions that came after was infuriating.


"Did you know him?"


"Was he your lover?"


"Why did you kiss the lifeless body?"


Roje snapped and she shoved the people away, walking from the Scene "No more damn questions!" she turned at them "Keep flooding me with your cameras and i'm going to shove them up your asses along with your microphones!" and what she had said stopped the news people from flooding her once again and she walked off. Now all I need is just some pictures and i'll figure out this case myself.


@Layna

 

[Hatchet]

Restless days; sleepless nights. Allison’s absent-minded hum followed Ava all the way back to Jiggy’s garage, well past the hour allotted for any lunch break. Almost three. Saturday was an early close, too. Even if she did call Zwei now, the garage wouldn’t be open for him to pick anything up today. The bus rumbled along through the city, pausing every couple of minutes and Ava pulled out her cellphone, staring at the keyboard inattentively. When the backlight dimmed, she pressed a button to brighten it again. And again. Dropping the phone into her lap, Ava leaned her temple on the window, watching the sidewalks slide by and the people crawling along it.


This was stupid. She was being stupid. She had known exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to the idea, planned the escape route, picked out the hiding spots, picked the cars, researched who would be responsible for them, where they would be, palmed a set of keys from an arrogant braggart and not until after had her nerves gone shot. Jiggy knew it, too. Her brother wasn’t likely to silence her as a liability, but Ava wasn’t so sure about all the others. She couldn’t very well blame it on Allison’s stress spilling over; that wasn’t fair, and it was cowardly.


Knocking her head once against the glass, Ava scowled at her phone and woke it up again, punching a rapid message to Zwei. Spare parts and scrap; come by Mon if you want it. None of that nonsense about pricing. If Zwei wasn’t good for it, Jiggy could just deal; they weren’t exactly in the red. Ava almost missed the stop for Adkins and scrambled to hop out the closing doors. The next stop was campus and she didn’t really want to go there now. If she delayed another hour, everything would be closed and she could just tell Allison she left it too late.


Jiggy’s legs were sticking out from under a Camry but Henri saw Ava return and cracked a grin, his two broken teeth giving him a particularly wicked look. “Queen Bee! I thought you’d run off for good.” Ava just rolled her eyes, tossing her purse in the safe, but Henri sauntered over anyway, leaning on the open doorframe between the office and the garage. Jiggy was saying something, but Ava couldn’t hear exactly what. “You’re lookin’ all sorts of worn out, baby doll, something wrong?”


Ava only shook her head and before Henri could press and make her temper sharper, Jiggy shoved him from behind and scowled at his sister. “I’ve got some words for you later. Turn that up.” That must have been what he was yelling. The scanner was behind Ava and she hadn’t been paying the slightest attention to it. Dread pooled and burned in her stomach as they listened to the report of murder or possible assassination and Jiggy’s expression drew darker. “That’s right around the damn corner from here. We need to do that engine now. Close up shop, Ava.”


Before they could close the garage doors, though, they needed to get the three vehicles due for pickup into the parking lot. The heat of the spring day raised all the reek of the garage and Ava breathed deep to steady herself. There would be others arriving, soon, and if Henri was questioning her already, it was going to be a long night. Restless days, sleepless nights, Ava hummed.


*


@Grin

 

[Coko_Bacon]

Zwei was at the bar when he got Ava's message. It was an offer on scrap metal. Zwei had to ask a few more questions, considering he didn't get paid from his last job. His thumbs jabbed the phone to create the message, "What metals, and what price?" He hit send, then put his phone away. Zwei walked out with a total of two beer bottles in his hand. "I may have to stop the beer sprees," he said, "it's doing a number on my budget." He continued to walk when he saw a man sitting alone on the bench. Zwei had beer to spare, so he gave the man a bottle, and quickly walked away. Zwei quickly drank the one bottle he had in his hand, as if it would wash his soul of the blood of the innocent man he killed. He looked up and thought about killing, which moved to hunting. "I should go hunting sometime soon. It IS turkey season."

 

[The Kaosophile]

Zach was a multitasker. Currently, he was doing background searches on every pawn shop owner and car mechanic in a ten-mile radius, performing an extensive virus/spyware/adware/bloatware scan of both his computer and his website, eating a doughnut, and watching a ten-minute video on how to turn just about any digital camera into an overpowered taser. He came out of the basement thirty minutes later with five hits on the background search, a full stomach, several malware attempts thwarted, and a borderline-illegal self-defence weapon for when he went over to downtown. He was tempted to head off now, before he lost his nerve, but he figured he should wait until after lunch, and notify his 'police' contact before he went, in case things took a turn for the worse. "I'm not stalling," Zach said to his empty house. I'm just going bat-shit crazy, he thought to himself.

 

[Hatchet]

This role play has been marked "inactive". Inactive role plays are defined as "role plays showing 0 activity within a 30 day period".


Please contact an @Rp Moderator if you feel this was a mistake or if you would like to have your role play reactivated.


Thank you for your participation within the RpNation!

 

[Hatchet]

This role play has been marked "inactive". Inactive role plays are defined as "role plays showing 0 activity within a 30 day period".


Please contact an @Rp Moderator if you feel this was a mistake or if you would like to have your role play reactivated.


Thank you for your participation within the RpNation!