D9 Riots: Merchants Row

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 7, 2020 12:19:27 GMT -5

Post by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin. on Jan 7, 2020 12:19:27 GMT -5

L E N A M A R T I N

Who says the future can't be changed?

If only he had any idea how many times I have asked myself that question, how many times I have fought tooth and nail with fate to try and understand this life that I've been born into, the crown I am destined to wear. The war that I never asked for and yet will fight in anyways. How many times have I trained myself to feel hatred instead of fear? To let the fire of bloodlust tear through my bones instead of the paralyzing and ice-cold burn of fear?

I have always been a girl molded by love, by soft and wondrous things. I was born to love my sister, to love my mother, to love my father even when he didn't know what the word meant anymore. I was born to love my soldiers, to protect them and build them up and turn them into parts of an empire greater than all of us. But that's horrifying, a fate so daunting that I have seen myself crumbling under the weight of it time and time again, seen myself falling at Markus Lockwood's feet, in love and hating myself for it most of all. I see myself unable to kill him, unable to fulfill my fate. I see the same for him, see him at my feet, crumbling under the weight of our combined fates.

I don't know what the future holds, but it is written, that much I am sure of. I have always been aware of this, excruciatingly so—I can no more escape my fate than the Riot boy can escape his.

Maybe this is my fate, to die at the hands of a rabid dog in the street. Maybe losing everything is what will finally make my father turn the world into his kingdom; maybe my fate is to die with a knife in my hand and new scars littered across my body.

"Names are dangerous things to have," I say, wanting him to know mine. To know what comes with it. "Let mine tell you your future."

Both of us are bleeding from wounds that we don't know the other has, have heavy pasts that we might never hear about. I know in another life that he could have been one of my soldiers, could have been someone that I trusted with my life.

"You can call me Lena."

The Martin girl, the daughter of Robin Hood reborn, the princess among the ashes. A girl who has been drowning for as long as she can remember.

lena attacks art, knife

4ep4m1g3Tcknife

2064 - block - 0.0

( 8 / 25 )
( also we still plotting pls let us!!! xx )

knife

Last Edit: Jan 7, 2020 12:20:18 GMT -5 by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 7, 2020 13:38:54 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jan 7, 2020 13:38:54 GMT -5

Names are dangerous things to have.

And hopeless to run from.

Names are given for a reason, and that reason is to intimidate, that reason is to make sure said name could be uttered and people would bristle in fear from the connotations interwoven with said name. That reason is permanence, for a name could never be buried entirely. Erased and burned away, yes, but not expunged for an eternity’s length. There would always be someone’s tongue that held the name, someone’s memory that had it etched and remembered.

I would remember hers. “Lena,” I whisper. It tugs at my thoughts, how familiar the vowels sound as they were sewn together. She’s important, that I understand, a princess such as I'd guessed her to be, pearly and delicate to look, fierce and headstrong to fight.

“Lena, Lena, Lena,” I repeat. “Perhaps I won’t kill you Lena.” She’s proved to be more interesting than anyone here, with her balisong and her mysteries and how deep she cut. I like interesting people, more if they can wound me. “Would you?” I arch a dark brow. “Kill me, I mean. Take that pretty blade and slit my throat open.” I wonder if I would be willing to bleed dry, to die upon the stony pavements. I do not answer myself in fear of that that answer would be.

“I wouldn’t kill you,” it’s a confession, an answer to what he'd asked himself before, said with a lively snicker. “You know how to fight – I respect that. You have spirit.” But. There is always a but.

“But, I want that,” I tilt the sharp edge of my blade at the deadly thing she wields in her nimble hands. Lena may have proved herself to be someone I wouldn’t hurt, but I came here for a prize and I am ardent on leaving with one. Named art, but artless in what he does.

Names can be false, too.

She answers by lashing out with her blade once more and this time, I am swift-footed and lithe-handed, parrying it before it could touch my skin or scar it.

“I don’t supposed you’d give it to me, not even if I asked politely?” I let out a bastard's laugh and swing.

( art attacks lena with knife )

YjY_GRoAyBknife

2109 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage (Knife)

( 12.5 / 25 )

knife

Last Edit: Jan 7, 2020 13:44:06 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 7, 2020 21:37:57 GMT -5

Post by Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom] on Jan 7, 2020 21:37:57 GMT -5

Daxton Donner

"Please, just let us stay. We won't take anything... you can have it all. I've got issues with a peacekeeper, that's all."

Fucking hell, I am gonna regret this. My hand still holds the knife, but I let it fall to my side before grumbling for a moment. My other hand going through my messed up hair and I can smell smoke and gasoline in the distance. The other person seems to carry a first aid kit, but fuck, this was not going to help me in the long run, I had other things to worry about than two strangers, so I walk farther away but close enough to still hear and speak.

"Fucking hell, fine, but touch anything and I'll gut ya."

Keepers. The girl had issues with one. This was going to be a long day for me. All I wanted was some food to feed up for at least a month. Fucking riots and other people. I need to just grab the stuff and leave. Shoving as much as I can into my bag, I can feel the air growing tense as I hold my breath. Not now. Fuck. My day was about to get more hectic.

I rush back over to them, putting a finger to my lip as I whisper quietly, hoping to stay quiet in this story and away from the front window. This was going to be hectic. I did not want to deal with this, but ripred, here we are. I point towards the window now and whisper in the silent dim shop.

"The Keepers are here. Stay down and stay quiet or we'll be in big trouble."

(ooc: Peacekeepers time! Dax doesn't attack, but decides to help out two strangers)

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

WT
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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 7, 2020 23:40:36 GMT -5

Post by WT on Jan 7, 2020 23:40:36 GMT -5

"Ezra," you say in return for the extended hand, but you can't concentrate on putting together the words to ask for her name and rifling through your first aid kit at once, and as it turns out you don't have time for either before you find yourself, for the first time in your life, with a knife pointed at you.

Your parents made sure, about as soon as it became clear that you had become as talkative as you were ever going to, that you had practiced, scripted phrases in case a Peacekeeper ever threatened you. They wanted you safe more than they wanted you not scared, and they didn't want your staggered speech taken as noncompliance, or for you to try to soothe yourself tapping your heels in a way that made someone pull a finger on a trigger.

None of those scripts seem to apply here. Unsure what to do, you simply freeze.

Fortunately, the girl at your side fares better, or at least finds her voice. "Please don't hurt us... please. We are just... he was just helping me—"

"They," you say automatically, "I'm they," but don't bother to press it. You have bigger issues, as the newer stranger lays claim to the loot and tries to chase you out, not yet moving forward but actively threatening both of you now.

"Yours," you say with a small sweep of your hand toward the shelves and then toward the looter. "We don't—" You grimace in frustration as you realize you don't have an end to that sentence prepared. At home and at the temple, people know you well enough to read behind the lines; it's somehow always harder than you remember to adjust to strangers. "We don't," you simply repeat, more emphatically this time, as the girl you came inside with sets a hand on your arm.

You glance at her, perplexed—is she telling you to stop?—but her face is still turned toward the looter. "Please, just let us stay. We won't take anything... you can have it all." You nod once, forcefully. "I've got issues with a peacekeeper, that's all."

She what?

That does the trick, at least; the looter lowers his knife and moves off, even if with a parting, "Fucking hell, fine, but touch anything and I'll gut ya."

Easy enough—all you wanted here was the shelter. You offer the girl a shaky smile, then a hm as you remember her words. "Peacekeeper?" A grudge in and of itself isn't surprising—most of Nine has issues with Peacekeepers—but she hadn't acted with the looter like a person who's used to fighting. If she hadn't said it herself, you wouldn't expect her to take a fight to someone else.

You don't have time to talk long, though, before the looter is back in your aisle. Before you can do more than gasp, he puts a finger to his lips, and you nod hesitantly, registering that he hasn't drawn his knife on the two of you again. "The Keepers are here. Stay down and stay quiet or we'll be in big trouble."

Twitchtip, you grumble silently as you nod again, you could have been more specific.

'the way we lived' in stylized text, with 'character directory' as a subtitle underneath

banner by Dars! <3

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 8, 2020 1:32:12 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Jan 8, 2020 1:32:12 GMT -5

SEMI-RETIRED KEEPER GUNDERSEN

Despite the fact he should have officially retired 8 years ago, Gundersen would live and die in the field. He just knew it in his soul. He had ever since he was a boy, marveling at their shining white uniforms after the war - how desperately he had wanted to destroy those rebels that had ruined his family. At eighteen, surviving the final reaping, he marched straight into the Justice Building and swore his mind, body and soul to the Corps - never looking back.

Even now, as an aging man spending half his days at the Keeper Academy and the other half tending to his neighbour's shop, his heart was still in the fight. So when he awoke in his apartment to the sound of bombs and broken bottles he knew what he had to do. Taking a breath, he drew the shotgun out from underneath his bed, opened up the window, and fired into the night.

keeper G attacks:
1. daxton, 2. ezra, 3. marisa, 4. aneesa, 5. arcadia, 6. phoenix

bX153EUq2X1-6

with gun:

1-50

+7, your choice where it lands

AGENT HUI

Undercover work was her forte. It was so easy to be unassuming when you had flaws yourself, a scar ripping right across her cheek from an operation gone wrong. Fucking rebels, she seethed into the mirror every morning. She hated them, and their guns and their knives, thinking they were above everyone because they had dirt. They deserved the dirt - no, they didn't even deserve that. They deserved bullets and shallow graves.

From the depths of the crowd she strikes, dressed as an every day civilian. Unassuming. Unnerving. Unforgiving.

keeper H attacks:
1. daxton, 2. ezra, 3. marisa, 4. aneesa, 5. arcadia, 6. phoenix

1-6

with baton [ blunt ]:

blunt

Gash/Bruised Right Collar Bone -- 3.0 damage

BOTH KEEPERS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO BE ATTACKED BY RIOTERS!
(max 3 attacks per keeper until they post next)

1-6·1-50·1-6·blunt

Last Edit: Jan 8, 2020 1:33:45 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 8, 2020 3:38:37 GMT -5

Post by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin. on Jan 8, 2020 3:38:37 GMT -5

L E N A M A R T I N

I scream.

I can't help it, feel the hope and resilience that has always been lodged in my bones start to flicker. The day is burning with terror, ripe with the horror of inevitable death. In another world, this moment would be the one where I crumble. Where I just can't do anything, can't move, can't breathe, am immobilized by pain and anger. I want to close my mouth, wire it shut so that I just stop making noise, but I am breathing too heavily and he is too close to me and his questions are ringing around in my head, begging to be answered.

I inhale, exhale, quick breath in short succession as we circle around each other. I can feel blood dripping down my arm, hot and wet, life abandoning me slowly. Inch by inch, second by second. Would you kill me? he asks me in so many words, and I bite my tongue, almost not wanting to say the truth out loud, terrified for what it means about who she is, what it means about who she has become.

"You want my knife?" I ask, and before he can see me, I dart in as close as I dare, take half a second and press it right against his carotid just like he asked me if I would do. I hope it distracts him from what my left hand is doing. "Pry it from my fucking hands yourself."

I slip my bloodied hand up under my arm and yank my gun out from its holster.

Then I fire.

lena attacks art, gun

yWTio0g43U1-50

+10, location of wound up to griffin!

( 16 / 25 )

1-50

Last Edit: Jan 8, 2020 3:40:42 GMT -5 by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 8, 2020 18:01:57 GMT -5

Post by * on Jan 8, 2020 18:01:57 GMT -5

Arcadia 'Arc' Devereux

I'm fearful for my life. If I was facing a peacekeeper ang got hurt, then it would be part of my plan. However, crouched down in front of this maniac of a guy threatening to stab me and this other person, makes my decision to venture out a bad one. Where was my brother and sister? Were they safe? Were they looking for me? The questions that seem to run through my mind stop the moment the screaming occurs. Shots are fired and the dude that threatened us with our lives suddenly decides to help us, in a way. He still threatens to hurt us if we touch anything. The only way I see it, is I will be dead no matter what, whether it's from a stab wound or a gunshot at this point. I breath lightly feeling my heart stammering against my chest with excitement.

I remember and read Ezra's thoughts and words when they try to talk and they correct me about who they are. They identify differently then I thought and with a smile I nod at him. Acceptance among hatred and fear and whatever else is fueling this nightmareish night. Even the looter decides to give us santurary when I mentioned who my grudge was at. This brought up a word from Ezra in curiousness.

I swallow my pride and sigh.

"Peacekeeper killed my parents years ago... I just... I'm out here to find him. To find the one th-" My words are cut off by the looter's whispers, but they are forced. He's scared and immediately, I begin to look around the corner. If the peacekeepers are coming, then that means that I could figure out which one did it. If they are coming in smaller numbers, then I can easily take them out.

I look at the two guys I'm with and realize that me being here is jeopardizing their safety. They don't need to save me when my grudge is with the men they are hiding from. I want so badly to protect them though and lead them away.

"I can leave. You'll be safe, but I need a weapon. Please, can you let me find something to use?" I look at the looter first because he's the one ready to push that blade into my skin. I get up on my feet, still pressing my hand against my chest. "If you want, I'll lead them away and you can get out? As I said, I have beef with the keepers. Not you."

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 9, 2020 4:58:26 GMT -5

Post by Lyn𝛿is on Jan 9, 2020 4:58:26 GMT -5

marisa chen

I first heard about their ball from two Peacekeepers chatting on the street corner. The usual patrol who walked the block every other weekday, bragging to another whitecoat about how he'd scored an invitation to District Two, and what an honor it was to finally be recognized by the Capitol, and all that crap they get so full of themselves about.

They'd been acting different, ever since. They've always been willing to lock you up if they didn't like your face, of course, but the past few weeks it'd seemed like they were competing with each other to arrest more people. Taking out the trash, they liked to say, and the town would cheer when they came up with some new justice program, or held some "benefit" event that only ever benefited rich folk.

Well, sometimes the trash fights back.

Hidden behind an alley dumpster, I'd watched the rows and rows of Peacekeepers march past in lockstep, a parade of white armor and polycarbonate visors that snaked through the streets from the barracks to the train station. Arrogant bastards. They wouldn't have enough to cover the town, if so many were away at that ball. I look at the row of merchants, with their shop-fronts so easily broken, and then remember how they spat at us, how they'd pin dozens of meaningless medals to the whitecoats' uniforms. Serves them right.

I tie a wet rag to my nose as I approach the Row. District Nine smells like smoke and ash on the best of days, and it's even stronger tonight, when half the town is burning and there's explosions sending dust and rubble through the air.

The chemical smoke is enough to make my eyes sting - but tonight, I like its smell.

This is the smell of revolution.

Marisa throws a molotov [flaming blunt projectile] at PK Hui

wgqbEZsnErprojectile

1-50

[miss/extinguished :soy:]

[OOC: open for attacking/plotting/etc, hmu!]

projectile·1-50

Last Edit: Jan 9, 2020 4:59:07 GMT -5 by Lyn𝛿is

"Yeah… You have to be careful when placing labels on good and evil, Celice. Never waste your anger on individuals. Always focus it on the evil within all of us."
- Lewyn, Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 10, 2020 21:06:54 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Jan 10, 2020 21:06:54 GMT -5

SEMI-RETIRED KEEPER GUNDERSEN

His shots weren't landing, not after the first few. Frustrated, knowing he had to get closer, Gundersen hauled himself downstairs in his dressing gown and opened up his front door ever so slowly. Pointing the barrel of his shotgun through the ajar space, he aimed at the looting scum and fired once, twice, three times.

keeper G attacks:
1. daxton, 2. ezra, 3. marisa, 4. aneesa, 5. arcadia, 6. phoenix

XEjJG29NeB1-6

with gun:

1-50

+7, up to you where it lands

AGENT HUI

A Keeper in white had siezed her arm, gun pointed at her head, just in time for Hui to rip off her cloak hood and hiss "I'm one of you, dipshit!". The Keeper dropped her arm immediately and barked a short "Sorry!", spooked by her appearance more than their mistake. Hui just sighed and lept forward after the white-clad soldier. Where the Keepers where there was trouble - and trouble was her favourite kind of target.

keeper H attacks:
1. daxton, 2. ezra, 3. marisa, 4. aneesa, 5. arcadia, 6. phoenix

1-6

with baton [ blunt ]:

blunt

Broken Left Arm -- 6.5 damage

BOTH KEEPERS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO BE ATTACKED BY RIOTERS!
(max 3 attacks per keeper until they post next)

1-6·1-50·1-6·blunt

Last Edit: Jan 10, 2020 21:08:53 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 10, 2020 21:11:02 GMT -5

Post by Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom] on Jan 10, 2020 21:11:02 GMT -5

Daxton Donner

"I can leave. You'll be safe, but I need a weapon. Please, can you let me find something to use?"

A silence fills me as I nod to her. This wasn't about stealing anymore. Things had taken a turn for the worse. I can feel it in my bones. A silence fills me as I crouch low to the ground as I pull my extra knife out, shoving it into her grip. Eyes heavy as I silently stare for a moment and hear her speak once more.

"If you want, I'll lead them away and you can get out? As I said, I have beef with the keepers. Not you."

There's something I hate more than people getting in the way. I hate people who think I'm not capable enough to handle myself, so instead of answering, I shrug my bag off, setting it down next to the aisle, holding my breath for a moment before pulling out my own knife, holding it carefully in front of me. I stare at the older man, who clearly was once a peacekeeper. A silence fills me as I dare to glance back to the girl who is younger than myself by quite a few years. The flare of my own siblings waiting at home jumping to my mind.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this."

I whisper under my breath as I stand up with the knife clutched in my hand.

"Don't be a fucking idiot."

I hover closer to the front of the store, where the older peacekeeper stands with the shotgun heavy. I see them in the girl and the other person. They. They had corrected. There's a silence to my approach as I look back to them, giving the most confident glare I can give before I pop up from the window, shouting.

"Peekaboo, shithead"

I lunge forward with my knife striking at him, toppling us both over into a tussle. The shot hits his shoulder, blood pouring from it.

"Get out of here, you two. Fuck beef, just go, Fuckers!"

(ooc: hands Arc a knife and strikes)

(Dax attacks Semi-retired Keeper Gundersen with Knife)
H2Rbk_5j9Sknife
(Miss)

knife

Last Edit: Jan 10, 2020 21:11:33 GMT -5 by Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 10, 2020 21:45:25 GMT -5

Post by * on Jan 10, 2020 21:45:25 GMT -5

Arcadia 'Arc' Devereux

A smell of chemicals waft into the room where we are, but it's faint and I wonder what's going on outside the very grocer where we are hiding ourselves in. I can only imagine how much fighting is going on. Who all is looting the very stores that we used to go into and pay our hard earned money in them. I can't believe that this is actually happening though. It seems so surreal. I have my mission though and I'm fearful for my life with this guy who gave me the perfect excuse to ask for a weapon. I need to get out while I still had a chance. I can only hope that Ezra would follow me. They were kind and with them being a healer, I can tell that they'll be useful in more ways then one. I just wish I had been able to let them fix the burning pain in my hand before...

A knife is shoved at me from the guy. He also reveals a second knife. "Thank you -" I start to say before he's cursing and standing. "What are you doing?" I whisper curious. If he was going to be the daft one and go after the keepers alone, then he's got another thing coming. I may be young but I can fight.

"No!" I whisper loudly trying to get his attention adn then turn my attention to Ezra. "Ezra.. we have to stop him." I plead and I crouch and inch my way closer to where the man stood by the window.

A peacekeeper starts walking closer and my heart beat quickens in fear and excitement. I watch as our new friend lunges forward with his knife but the keeper is too quick, but a gunshot rings out.

I scream, crouching down immediately expecting to feel pain before I look up and see redness seeping down his arm. His shirt sleeve turning into a bright red color and I feel the color drain from my face. My fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife and my stomach catches a motion.

"Forget it! You need us - " I yell at him and launch myself at the keeper. The knife is aimed to plunge. I don't care which keeper this is. I'm not about to watch them kill someone in front of my eyes. We are not the enemy.

"Ezra - help him!"

[Arc attacks PK Gundersen with the given knife]
WfhklOEVhMknife
2007 -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage

knife

Last Edit: Jan 10, 2020 21:48:29 GMT -5 by *

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 11, 2020 5:05:13 GMT -5

Post by WT on Jan 11, 2020 5:05:13 GMT -5

You may possibly, somewhere between frowning up at Matija this morning and sliding out your window this evening, have miscalculated.

"Mhm," you answer the girl as forcefully as you can, but you're painfully aware as you spring to your feet that you're training as a diviner, not a medic. Your hands are steady but slow; your world is one of familiar patterns with the space to improvise on your own time and no faster. A banged-up finger is one thing, and you can at least manage a stab wound well enough for the patient to make it to someone better-equipped; initiates learn that much as a matter of course, with violence so rampant in Nine these days, and those are the types of things you expected to handle tonight. The bright-blooming gunshot wound across your new ally's shoulder—which, the way the Peacekeeper at the front of the shop looks, likely won't be the last one you see tonight—is well beyond you.

You are, however—and you fancy yourself that this is a point in your favor over any actual healer or medic in Nine right this moment—here.

Haste makes you clumsy, but you manage to jam the bandages into the first aid kit and pull a stretch of gauze out as you run, then slam the kit itself closed with a snap you barely make out over the surrounding wall of noise and the chemical reek that meets you outside. You smack the gauze into the older boy's chest as you reach the fight, snap "Pressure!" with what you hope is a pointed look at the bleeding, and join your newly-freed hand to the one clenched around the handle of your kit as you spin around to swing it two-handed at the Peacekeeper.

You aren't a real medic, you're still not a fighter, and the time for everything your parents have told you to say to a Peacekeeper has passed. If Twitchtip wants to nudge your aim a little, you won't complain, but if nothing else, you'll make do with sheer nerve.

[Ezra attacks Gundersen, blunt]

KUHlMIqE8Pblunt

[Broken Right Collar Bone -- 6.5]

blunt

Last Edit: Jan 11, 2020 5:07:35 GMT -5 by WT

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D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 12, 2020 12:32:58 GMT -5

Post by Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom] on Jan 12, 2020 12:32:58 GMT -5

Daxton Donner

"Forget it! You need us - "

I don't need anyone.

"Ezra - help him!"

The young girl appears out the store, cutting at the keeper with a shotgun. For a second, I almost get back up to strike again, but I can feel the blood from my wound and the paint hat echoes across my shoulder and through my entire body. Fuck, this hurt. A silent moment before I can feel the other person smack gauze against my chest, for a second everything feels slower, as if I can see every second of the next few moments. Too young to fight. I have to get up. I have to do something.

They're too young to fight.

"Pressure!"

The first aid kit slams into the keeper's chest with a loud crack of bone.

It's almost like how it was that day.

The day my father died.

A broken collarbone and then a gunshot.

Death. Fuck I'm an idiot.

"Fucking idiots."

I can feel my hands shake as the blade shakes with it. The world was such a fucking mess for everyone. People died every day and District Nine was the worst of it. Gang activity made sure of that. Starvation took out the rest. I can't let kids who have more of a life than I ever will be the only ones doing anything, so I stand up with my knife extended, tying the gauze to my shoulder as I toss the knife to my other hand.

"You just have to get out of here. I'll be fucking fine on my own."

And I would be. Nothing I haven't handled before. Broken bones, bullet wounds, and bruised skin. I've endured wounds worse than this. I can do this, even if it's meant to distract the keepers from getting the two others. I could escape, slip through an alley close by. It'd be easy, but I had to make sure they got away.

I do the only thing I can think of.

I shout to the Keepers.

"KEEPERS ARE FUCKING PIGS!"

I swing my blade at the other keeper.

(Dax attacks Agent Hui with Knife)
Z0So5QQ5Vlknife
(Deep gash on back 8.5)

knife

Last Edit: Jan 12, 2020 12:33:30 GMT -5 by Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

*
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3,276 POSTS
last seen Apr 4, 2020 9:33:58 GMT -5

They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 12, 2020 17:59:31 GMT -5

Post by * on Jan 12, 2020 17:59:31 GMT -5

Arcadia 'Arc' Devereux

I don't know what I'm doing right now. I'm caught somewhere between holding on to a grudge and wanting to fight until this guy got shot. Now, I feel even more empowered to help and I'm not about to let him take this one himself. I can't do that not when I can actually do something to change what might happen should Ezra or I leave him like he wants us to do. I know he wants to take care of this on his own, let him have this fight, but my heart is yearning to listen to the voices of these men.

Could they be that peacekeeper that told us the news of my parents passing?

As forceful as I could, I shoved Ezra's need to this looter turned vigilante. Only, he began to bleed out instead of taking down the keeper. My blade though, as hard as I try, peirced the visor and I know I made contact with skin. The moment I extracted it from his helmet, a trail of blood came back.

"Speak!" I begged of him before he could react with his gun, Ezra came swinging in with his medkit and the boistrous sound of breaking bones danced into my ears. He landed such a traumatic hit that the peacekeepers was surely goign to fill that in a matter of moments. If only he'd speak.

"Fucking idiots. You just have to get out of here. I'll be fucking fine on my own." Dax tries to get us off the hook and I shake my head. The blood on the knife was like a beacon for my mind. I needed that blood to be the man who murdered my parents and my own heart started to beat furiously in my chest. My breaths got heavy and tunnel vision began to set in.

My mind wants to reset itself to protect me. I fight against it and look at the boy in front of me. He screams something at another keeper, moving on to a differnet one. While the one I hit and Ezra broke, I sighed heavily.

"Keeper... what is your name?" I ask calmly, walking toward him and watching as Dax attacks him sending lines of blood cascading down his back. I tilt my head and advance further. "Did you kill my parents? My last name is Devereux... one of you -"

I bring the knife forward, taunting him with the blade. "-did."

[Arc attacks PK Agent HUI with the knife]
hv_wWmIhwPknife
2151 -- Block -- 0.0 damage

knife

Last Edit: Jan 12, 2020 18:00:08 GMT -5 by *

napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.
Retired Staff

3,108 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Oct 31, 2024 9:54:05 GMT -5

D9 Riots: Merchants Row Jan 17, 2020 7:54:17 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jan 17, 2020 7:54:17 GMT -5

She screams.

It’s a blood-curdling sound, resonant through my very bones, and for a moment, I want to dress all the wounds I’d opened on her skin. I want to drop my blade and tend to her. But, we were two distinct creatures, from opposite ends, from worlds that were strangers to each other. The only thing we shared was the hot blood that soaked our hands. The only thing we shared was the knotted air between us, thick with ragged breaths.

With a grunt, I draw back, stumbling lightly on my feet. The blood I’d drawn from her is red as sin upon the edge of my blade; I try not to stare at it too much, steel my gaze upon anything except her. But that becomes impossible when Lena presses herself close to me. I hiss when I feel the cold blade rest on my neck softly, but enough to serve as a warning, as a promise. “Don’t mind if I do,” the words leave the bleak row of my teeth and I reach for the beautiful curve of the blade, caught in a stupor, the world swirling like a carousel on fire—

BANG.

Everything sound about us held themselves like a breath; the world hummed, a tinnitus ringing in my ears. For a moment, nothing happens, no one moves. Then, I wrench myself away from her with a terrible fervor, my hands rising to clutch at the hole in my side. A river of red, undammed, comes rushing out of me.

“You—you—”

I gasp and pull my own gun out with a trembling hand.

Then I fire.

( art attacks lena with gun )

7OW|8JWsPG1-50

+8 damage ( gun )

( 22.5 / 25 )

1-50

Last Edit: Jan 17, 2020 7:55:10 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

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