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Don't bleed on the carpet. |
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Post by Vincent. on Mar 12, 2012 22:28:44 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Against All Odds[/shadow] Isaiah heard them coming long before he saw them. He knocked on the roof of the garage with the top of his hatchet.
In the officer's building on the floor above, Vincent was buttoning up his uniform in front of the bedroom mirror. He heard the thumping beneath the floor and instinctively glanced over to the bed where his sister was sleeping; it was a little past five in the evening and too early in the day for her to be awake, so he would go down to the garage to see what was going on for himself. Picking his officer's cap from atop the bureau, he fitted it resolutely over his white hair and quietly left the room.
As he made his way to the floor below, the young man's mind was free of deep thought. He woke up at noon, but the day had been uneventful so far and there was nothing to think about quite yet. Or so he hoped. That hope dwindled a little as he approached the front gate, staring strictly at the ground ahead of his feet as he walked. While on his way he lit a cigarette which left a trail of black-cherry-and-clove scented smoke wafting behind him and fading into the deep shadows of the garage. Upon nearing the gate, Vincent lifted his violet eyes from the floor. It took him a moment to realize that he was peering through the fence at an unmistakably familiar face.
This girl... he had met her several months ago in the city. He briefly thought she was his sister, back then, before he had found Vespyr. Seeing the girl's face again, although still just the face of a stranger, was unsettling for some reason. It was almost surreal. Vincent had abandoned most of his recollections from the 'old life', especially the meaningless ones. The nameless faces and the places that didn't matter were all thrown into the smoky past. Yet here stood this girl, like an artifact, or perhaps an apparition, from a time that wasn't really so long lost at all.
Even more perplexing: why was she here?
Vincent cleared his throat.
"...Hello again."
He remembered she was blind, and wondered if she wouldn't remember his voice.
"...I'm sorry. I... met you awhile ago. I stopped you because I thought you were my sister. Do you remember that?"
He nervously chewed the filter of his cigarette, ever-so-slightly. Isaiah was staring at him dumbly and Vincent found it rather difficult to keep his gaze from switching between those stupid amber eyes, the girl's empty white hues, and the eyes of the little boy who was with her, who he did not recognize.
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Sometimes blindness is for the better.[A1i:2][A1i:2][A1i:2] |
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Post by Leta on Mar 13, 2012 17:05:05 GMT -8
Footsteps sounded in the darkness.They faded in slowly, approaching where the two of them were standing. While these footsteps sounded familiar, the were not hers. When he spoke, she knew. A while back, she ran into this sad little character. He was a strange person, now that Leta thought about it. Apparently, he had mistaken her for his long lost sister, and when she walked by on the street smoking the same cigarettes as him, he assumed she was her. It would have been less awkward if it weren't for the way he attacked the situation. Instead of talking to her, he followed her for a few blocks before she had to surprise him into speaking. Leta's lip twitched a little, remembering the way the both of them acted. It was just a giant puddle of awkward.
"...I'm sorry. I... met you awhile ago. I stopped you because I thought you were my sister. Do you remember that?"
"Yes," she said without hesitating. A puzzled look crossed her face. "What are you doing here?"
Was he in cahoots with her?
Pablo stood in silence, confused about everything, and unsure of what to do with himself.
Leta lifted up her arm straight out, dangling the severed head by the hair. She grimaced.
"I did as she instructed."
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Don't bleed on the carpet. |
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Post by Vincent. on Mar 15, 2012 18:24:59 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Probably A Bad Impression, But Who Really Gives A Shit.[/shadow] Vincent's gaze finally settled on the girl, while his hands settled in his pockets. The cigarette hung off his lip as if he'd forgotten its existence, but by some inherent smoker's skill he managed to keep it there as he spoke.
"...She... is my sister."
A hint of a smile would creep into the young man's words. There was something almost sinister in it; a reflection of his twin that he could not help but put off, that often shone subtly through his tone of voice and his glinting violet eyes. He did not try to. He did not even realize. Neither of them could help being mirrors of each other from time to time— it was diabolically enchanting.
There came the faint metallic click of a key in its lock, heavy sound of chain links sliding against each other, and scraping of the gate against the ground as it was dragged ajar several feet. Footsteps, casually slow in their approach. The warm and familiar scent of cigarette would pervade the air.
"...I see you've found her as well. How coincidental..."
His voice was closer, now, and the weight of the severed head would suddenly lessen from Leta's hand, if she allowed him to take it from her; slipping his long fingers through the hair beneath her clutching hand, Vincent held the grotesque thing at arm's length to avoid any blood dripping on his black uniform. His violet eyes strayed from the ghastly sight of it, and settled with disinterest on the little Hispanic boy.
"...Who is this?"
Pause.
"...And who are you? You'd better name yourself before she does."
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Sometimes blindness is for the better.[A1i:2][A1i:2][A1i:2] |
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Post by Leta on Mar 15, 2012 18:38:11 GMT -8
This was either incredible luck, or terrible luck. He knew her past--he might take pity on her. But having a relationship to that girl, could mean the very worst in terms of emotional torture. Anyone could understand from first impressions, that this girl possesses entirely sadistic intentions.
"This is Pablo," Leta said, "He set me up with... that." She nodded in the direction of the head. "He could be of great use to you, if you'll have him."
"...And who are you? You'd better name yourself before she does."
"Leta. I didn't catch your name last time we met."
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Don't bleed on the carpet. |
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Post by Vincent. on Mar 15, 2012 19:15:53 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Herr Kommandant[/shadow] Vincent gave the boy a once-over and decided he could be put to use as a janitor, if anything. There was no harm in allowing him in; they could always kill him if he became to much a burden.
"...Alright. My name is Vincent, but you can call me Commander."
Despite his authoritative tone, which was strictly habitual, Vincent felt no need to assert his position. He was no tyrant and he didn't have an ounce of self-pride that he could possibly attempt to boast over any one of his subordinates. They simply obeyed; if they feared him, it was a less vehement version of the same fear they had for Vespyr: the remorseless and unaffected way in which he handled situations that would normally reduce a man to pity or tears. If her loathed trait was sadism, Vincent's was apathy.
However, the man was capable of empathy. While he didn't necessarily empathize with Leta, (what reason had he to? She was not his sister.) he could at least afford to acknowledge her as a human being he'd known, if only briefly, in the past. The past was the thing— there was something quaint about it. And to meet someone from his past that hadn't had a negative effect on him? Rare.
"...Follow me, both of you."
Vincent backtracked through the gate, which the Twins would close and lock once the party of three had passed through.
"Watch your— step..."
For a moment, he glanced at the girl's empty eyes, but realized she couldn't see him even if he were to frown apologetically. He chose indifference and shrugged it off, leading on through the darkness for about a minute until they reached the back of the garage.
Now, Leta would have to be helped. If Vespyr had been the one to escort her, no comment would have been made about the low wall. But Vincent, who wasn't amused by others' pain any more than he was amused by any sort of low slapstick comedy, would intervene.
"...Allow me to, uh... the doorway is very low..."
Outstretching his left hand cautiously, for he did not want to startle the girl, he would rest his palm lightly on the back of Leta's head, urging her to bow down as she stepped forward through the little square doorway. He would follow right after her, still holding onto the severed head with his other hand, and at last Pablo would be beckoned with a violet-eyed glance.
"...There's a hole in the floor to your left. A ladder leads down."
This time, he would wait for both of the newcomers to proceed before following suit, descending nimbly despite the decapitated head in one hand and the cigarette dying on his lips. His boots met the floor with a quiet thump.
"...This is the underground barracks where you will be staying until your training is complete. Once you pass all the tests you will be allowed to occupy the neighborhoods above ground..."
His gaze trailed over to the Hispanic boy, who he regarded in silence for a few moments.
"...The boy will have to remain here. He's too young to train, but we can keep him on custodial duty, if you insist on keeping him... He will report to our Discipline Officer, Gilbert Pike.
"Lastly, I suggest you extract the teeth from this and keep them safe. Human teeth seem to be a sort of currency around here."
Vincent held the severed head out to Pablo, who he hoped would hand to Leta, so he wouldn't have to touch the girl again— he had learned when they first met that she seemed to have as much an aversion to contact as he.
"...Do you have any questions?"
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Sometimes blindness is for the better.[A1i:2][A1i:2][A1i:2] |
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Post by Leta on Mar 19, 2012 19:14:55 GMT -8
Commander?
Leta scoffed. It wasn't that she didn't think Vincent would be exceptional in a position of power, as she was certain there was more to him than the depressing sister less man than she's met before. It was just that his confidence in his title caught her off guard a little bit.
"...Follow me, both of you."
Suddenly remembering when she's dropped her things on the ground early in the day, she kicked around until she found her pillow case, stuffed with various items.Then, the three of them proceeded through the gate, into the building.
"Watch your--step..." Vincent said apologetically.
Leta snickered. She was fairly light hearted about things regarding her sight--or lack thereof. Pablo took it upon himself to grab her arm, and direct her in the correct direction. She would have ordinarily drawn away, but seeing as this was unfamiliar territory, and she had to gain as much of Pablo's trust as possible, she allowed it. But it still made her a tad uncomfortable.
They walked along the inside of the structure. Their footsteps were loud and echoed off the walls, giving the place a very hollow, empty, and cold feel. She often accidentally kicked a can, or some other form of debris around. She was so used to dragging her feet close to the ground, feeling for anything that might harm her bare feet, like broken glass. Now that she was wearing shoes, the habit was no longer needed, but hard to break. Pablo let go when they came to a brief halt.
"...Allow me to, uh... the doorway is very low..."
And there it was. A gentle, but very clear palm on the back of her head. Although he hadn't intended to frighten her, she still cringed. More touching was something she hadn't accounted for. But she stayed quiet, and ducked under the doorway. This was a smaller room. Pablo joined her shortly after.
"...There's a hole in the floor to your left. A ladder leads down."
Pablo would go first, seeing as he would help Leta off once he reached the bottom.
All three of them stood there in near darkness, the only light tunneling into the room is a dim ray from the tunnel from which they just came. None of this mattered to Leta. She lived in darkness.
"...This is the underground barracks where you will be staying until your training is complete. Once you pass all the tests you will be allowed to occupy the neighborhoods above ground..."
Barracks?...Training?
"Lastly, I suggest you extract the teeth from this and keep them safe. Human teeth seem to be a sort of currency around here."
Leta's face consisted of "are you fucking kidding me?" and confusion. All of this was extremely difficult to understand. As far as she was concerned, all she had to do was kill an experiment--for this girl's strange reservations against them--and she would have temporary, if not permanent refuge.
"...The boy will have to remain here. He's too young to train, but we can keep him on custodial duty, if you insist on keeping him... He will report to our Discipline Officer, Gilbert Pike."
Discipline officer...
Leta remembered the incident that occurred a couple days ago regarding the boy, Green. He had said he was in the Militia of the "Crows"--a gang.
A gang... I'm in a gang now?
"Lastly, I suggest you extract the teeth from this and keep them safe. Human teeth seem to be a sort of currency around here."
She closed her eyes and sighed.
These people are nuts...
Pablo took the head back with both hands cupping the face. He made a face. What was he supposed to do with it? He held it out far away from his body, entirely gross out, as it had grown cold long ago.
"...Do you have any questions?"
"One," Leta started, "What is this?"
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Don't bleed on the carpet. |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Mar 20, 2012 15:13:58 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]In Time, You’ll Know.[/shadow] Vincent only stared at her for a moment, unsure. Did she really come here... oblivious?
“...This is 'Rogues'. You'll be one of us soon.”
A vague response, but that was really all that could be said; Leta would begin to find out for herself tomorrow, what sort of situation she'd landed herself in, unwittingly or not. Without pity or concern, Vincent suspected that the reality of it would be drastically, if not traumatically different than what she was expecting.
It would be an interesting development.
“…Your first test will begin at this time tomorrow. For now, get some rest. Stake a claim anywhere you’re comfortable… but stay away from the others. They’re extremely hostile. If you have any more questions, Gilbert will… answer them. ‘Help’ isn’t really the word I would use to describe what he does…”
After a pensive pause, the man briefly lowered his voice; his tone became all at once more familiar, though far from friendly. His eyes were fixed to the floor.
“…I suggest… that if you don’t want to be kept down here forever, you follow all orders without question. It will be difficult but it’s the most painless way to get through this, I promise…”
His voice subsided and Vincent’s brisk footsteps retreated back toward the ladder. In a few seconds he had vanished back into the world above.
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