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Thread: Curb Stompers [IC]

  1. #1
    I think highly of myself. Stein's Avatar
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    Curb Stompers [IC]


    It was a little funny, really, how things all worked out. Kylie had always taken time to appreciate the irony and humor in life. Even after everything that had happened that had put her where she was now. She would look back and just marvel at how things could have gone differently. How one little decision could have changed her whole life. How she wouldn't be in the situations she was in now.

    Like this one for instance.

    This one. Where this disgusting excuse for a man was on top of her. He thought he had her pinned and his yellowed teeth that showed in his grin were enough to make Kylie want to vomit. As he smiled wider, her queasy feeling grew.

    "Next time, you'll think about gettin in to someone else's business!" the man yelled as he brought his fist down to punch her. Kylie's hand jerked up as well and there was a scream from the man as he yanked his hand back. There was now a knife protruding from it. Kylie took this opportunity to shove him off of her. As he tumbled back, his head whacking in to the wall, Kyle jumped up, scrambling to close the distance between them.

    The man had only just made it to his knees before Kylie's foot connected to his chin, sending him back again. She reached down, grabbing one of her knuckle tasers. Clicking it on and bringing it up she let out a yell as she brought her fist down on his cheek. The man let out a squeal as he fell to the ground again, this time curling up, his body now sent in to spasms. Kylie righted herself before turning to the woman she had gotten in this mess to save. The woman peeked from behind the dumpster she was hiding behind.

    "Don't worry," Kylie called to her, "it's alright now. You can go now. The police are on their way. But next time, I'd invest in a can of mace if I were you."

    The woman, a nervous wreck, nodded her head fervently as Kylie took off down the alleyway. Another day, another bit of anxiety she'd released. Another bit of that night she was slowly chipping away at.

    ---------------

    As she sneaked in through her window, careful not to make a sound on her wet roof--remnants of the excessive rain and odd weather, even by Coral Cove standards-- , Kylie began taking off her gear. It had been a short night, but she needed to get some rest for tomorrow. She may have been a vigilante, but she was a Straight A student first.

    Hopping on her laptop, she pulled up her internet, her pinned tab pulling up. The secret "VigilanteesofCalli.com" website greeted her with it's familiar background. She checked in, making sure she hand no new messages, and briefly checking on one of her saved threads. This "Construction Crew" gang was really worrying her. In her town of Coral Cove, they'd had a bank robbery just last week and now it seemed they had hit their sister city of Gulf Bay. Kylie was worried because it seemed that the cops were incapable of stopping these guys, or they didn't want to. She wasn't sure how far the corruption of cops penetrated but she knew it was there. She ruled out no options at this point.

    Under he screen name of "GoldenShot" she commented on the thread.

    "I don't know if this has been stated or not. But the activity of this gang makes me think that they have different factions in different cities. These attacks are happening for a reason. There's a reason that they're popping up now. I really think they're trying to make their presence known and establish dominance and get a payoff all in one fell swoop.

    They've hit my city already and chances are, they'll be at it again in the next week? What can we do?"

    As she sent the message, she checked her clock. Damn, it was getting late. For the time being, it might be best for her to get some rest.

    ------------------------

    It really was funny how things worked themselves out. Kylie couldn't help but shake her head as she looked at her phone in the middle of class. It turned out the Construction Crew had struck again in her town. The news feed she had on her phone showed that, while there had been no casualties, the gang had slipped through the cops yet again.

    Kylie grimaced as she read that. This situation was getting out of hand. But she couldn't do anything about that now. Right now, she had a test she was about to take.

    Pushing the thoughts of the Construction Crew out of her mind, she nodded at her teacher as she was handed her test and set to work.


    [[This Signature is brought to you by the wonderful talent of Genkai.]].

  2. #2
    ♡ SAD 'N' SASSY ♡ Teen Idle's Avatar
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    The door to Cavan's flat practically burst from its hinges as the inebriated occupant of the residence it guarded fell through its frame. He laughed to himself, a bottle of near-empty Vodka in his hand and slurred something incomprehensible as he slammed the door behind him and stumbled further into his small apartment. When he reached his living room, he collapsed onto the sofa: another situation that he apparently found inherently hilarious as he erupted into hysteria. "Gonna get me shum... fuck-fucking... pizzsha..." he decided, and within a moment he was trying to dial the number to his local Domino's. A number which he didn't even know when he was sober.

    "The number you are calling has not been recognized. Please hang up and try again."

    Cavan scowled as he attempted - albeit appallingly - to do just that. However, he was soon distracted from his urge for a late-night snack, for it was at this moment that he heard a commotion from his window. The apartment was in one of the roughest areas of Coral Cove and it was not unusual for there to be disturbances at this hour, but this did not hinder this particular incident from peaking the curiosity of the intoxicated teenager, who dragged himself to the window to get a better look. He couldn't see anything due to the darkness associated with this hour, but the screams of a man in pain were all too audible. Had he been in a standard state of mind, Cavan would have rushed out into the street with the intention of defending the man. Alas, the effects of alcohol and marijuana meant that he was not in any mood to move anywhere in a hurry.

    The logical alternative - as far as he was concerned - was to take to the internet, with the intention of posting a Facebook status. When he flipped open his laptop, however, a familiar page was still loaded from his previous session. VigilanteesofCalli.com

    It was a secret website with an intentionally misspelled URL - not that Cavan noticed. He used the site religiously, trawling through the various threads on the forum every day; reading every update posted by his fellow users - his fellow vigilantes. You see, he'd stumbled across the site a while ago and become enamoured with the concept of fighting off the high crime levels in the area, having come from such a peaceful neighbourhood. What's more, those already practising at the time of his discovery seemed to be doing a damn sight of a better job than the police - and so Cav had tried it, just the once. He'd been walking home one night - sober, thankfully - when he spotted an elderly woman pinned against a wall by a large, burly man. Cavan had been hesitant - he man was definitely bigger than him... Was this desperate act of amateur heroism really worth risking his life?

    Apparently, it had been. A few well-placed blows had been enough to disarm the man on his knife, which Cavan then used to scare him away with. The tears of gratitude that filled the woman's eyes had been enough for him to know that he had to continue doing this. And so he did.

    He was already signed into the forum - as his screen name, BornToDie - from earlier in the day, and so fortunately he was able to use the site without incorrectly entering his username and password a thousand times over. Distracted from informing the world about the commotion outside his apartment, he became the observer as he once again read through the newest posts on the forum. He must have spent about an hour on the site, and sobered up a little during the process - before a message from GoldenShot caught his attention. GoldenShot was perhaps his favourite member of the website - they always seemed to have solid theories that Cavan agreed with from behind his computer screen. It was a kind of a shame that they had to remain anonymous, he was sure they would get along in the real world. Brushing the thoughts aside, he began to type in response.

    "Good point, GS. Maybe if we can figure out when and where they're gonna hit, we could prepare to defend ourselves. Their greatest weapon at the moment is the lack of preparation within the authorities. But we all know the cops are useless. We have to take this into our own hands before. Next time the casualty count may not be 0."

    He waited a short while to see if GoldenShot would reply, but the marker on their profile indicated that they were no longer online. "Probably sleeping..." Cav thought to himself, before sensibly deciding that he should do the same. He had school tomorrow, after all.

    ***

    Cavan was filled with regret as he sat in his first class of the day - Music. Each individual note played by his peers struck his body and shook his bones with a skull-splitting strength. It was safe to say that this virtuoso was not so keen on loud music when hungover. He tried to collect his thoughts and distract himself from the pain; he looked forward to the end of the lesson - he and his best friend both had a free period; they'd find somewhere quiet and just chill for an hour or so. She was one of the more popular girls in school and they had met through mutual friends at parties, years before Cavan had even moved to the city and started attending the school. Of course, since he had, there had been the obvious rumours circulating: they were dating; they were into each other; they were friends with benefits, the list goes on. All lies, of course. They were just friends.

    His brief distraction of musing about Kylie were cut short as the class began to play their next song. Cavan groaned in protest and buried his face in his hands. The only sound he wanted to be able to hear was the bell.

    Of course, it would be nice if it were to ring just a little quieter today, he hoped to himself as he waited for lesson to end.


    SAD 'N' SASSY SINCE '95
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  3. #3
    Senior Member DawnKnight's Avatar
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    Luke vaulted over the wall easily, but the drop on the other side was bigger than he had expected and he fell eight feet onto the tarmac of an empty parking space. There was a screech of mistreated brakes as a car jolted to a halt, and a not-so-friendly “what the hell are you doing?” was thrown his way. He’d done his best to roll with the fall, but hadn’t been expecting it and had actually ended up mostly sprawled on the ground. He clambered to his feet, looked around for a moment, before sliding over the boot of the car, this went considerably better than vaulting over the wall had done. The driver watched in astonishment as the slim, masked figure sprinted away at full pelt without looking back.

    He leapt sideways into an alley, a narrow opening that only narrowed as it continued, he hit the wall at the t-junction and pushed off again, slowing and swearing as he spotted the chain link fence at the end of the alleyway. He glanced around quickly, seeing the dumpster pushed up against the wall a scarce four feet from the fence. He jumped to the metal bin, vaulting easily up onto the lid which flexed dangerously beneath his weight. He took another step and leapt, barely clearing the ragged top of the fence and returning to a smooth run as he landed on the other side.

    He came back out onto the main street, and it had been the right choice to take the shortcut as more by luck than judgement he cannonballed into the mugger on the sidewalk, sending them both tumbling into the road. Luke reacted instinctively, and recovered from the fall quickly, throwing a punch into the man’s stomach. It was swiftly returned and both staggered to their feet, the slightly flabby mugger out of breath and panting from the run. He scrabbled in a pocket and produced a flick knife, the blade sliding out with a metallic click. It gleamed in the streetlight as he waved it back and forth. Luke backed away a little the knife featuring chief in his concerns, then the adrenaline came back and he grinned behind the black, featureless mask.

    He pulled the maglight torch from it’s horizontal holster on the back of his belt and sprang forward. The man’s hand flickered and there was a sudden sharp pain, quickly dulled by adrenaline as it sliced open his sleeve. But the maglight was already swinging through the air and there was a satisfying crack as it thumped into the pale greasy temple. The mugger went down like, well, like an unconscious mugger. Luke stood there, panting with exhilaration, then turning to the bewildered pedestrians threw a mocking salute. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it’s done. Someone call the cops, this piece of shit,” here he kicked the unconscious man, “needs to spend the night out of the gutter.”

    The man who’d been mugged, overweight and red faced was only now hoving into view around the corner. Luke didn’t even stay to wait for his thanks, and took off into the night, running a little down the street and disappearing into a rubbish filled, shadowed alleyway.


    Running up the garden wall was child’s play now, he’d been climbing it since he was little, now it was simply a matter of stepping from it onto the roof of the garage, and from there climbing quietly through his bedroom window. He’d made sure to take everything off the window sill now, there used to be ornaments there until he’d knocked one off, waking his parents and getting caught sneaking back in. At least back then it had only been from a party, and not from a night of thrill seeking. Since then he’d made sure to keep it clear, it wasn’t worth the hassle of another lecture from his parents.

    He flipped open the Macbook, logging onto VigilantesofCalli.com, checking to see if anything else had come up since he’d last checked. The ‘Construction Crew’ thread had appeared in his subscriptions, and he clicked on the link. A member he’d seen on here before, ‘Goldenshot’ had commented. He quickly read her response, then began typing up his own.

    “Goldenshot, these are just one of dozens of gangs we already have, and they’re hardly the first to knock over a bank. The whole gang world is one fight for survival, of course they’re trying to make their presence known. If we’re lucky one of the big gangs will take notice and squash them, or they’ll take them on, either way we’re down one gang. It’s a win win as far as I can see. And BorntoDie, what do you propose? Going undercover, good luck with that, I’m sure they’re just dying to give away their phone numbers and home address, you try to interfere and next time the body count might be you.

    Edit – Hey, let me know, I might come along, that way there’ll be someone to bail you out when you find yourself in the shit.”



    With a smile, he lounged in class, legs stretched out, drumming his pen idly on the desk. He was bored, he was always bored in class. Instead of concentrating on what the teacher was saying he was idly checking out the girls, his eyes pausing, and then lingering on Kylie Saunders, appreciating her long legged form, but there were rumours here was something going on between her and that kid Cavan, he wondered whether it was true, or just more high school rumours. He was snatched back to the class as the teacher coughed, and proffered the test again. “If you would deign to rejoin us Mr Hunter.”

    He smirked and took the offered test paper, “sorry, how could I be distracted from such a riveting subject.”

    His voice was heavy with sarcasm and the remark prompted a titter among some of his classmates, particularly among the girls. He flashed a winning smile around the room, ignored the teacher’s infuriated glare and bent over the test.

  4. #4
    LordVonAwesome Haikufrenzy's Avatar
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    So for Darren it all started a few nights ago.

    He had just finished playing some soccer at the usual spot for it. It was a rectangular piece of concrete and chain link under the I-5 highway. A while back some unknown figures made the area into a sort of proving grounds for soccer playing locals. The concrete is rough and very unforgiving, able to mess someone up badly if they’re not prepared or foolishly try to slide tackle. So to really succeed players tend to really have to relay on ball control, first touches, and any juke or fake out they can to get past defenders.

    All of which is easy stuff for the man known as DMC.

    For the last two years his stature in the city has grown. Not only since his father is none other than local football legend Richard McCoy. But because Darren himself is growing and developing his soccer skills considerably. From helping take his high school’s soccer team from nothing to division champions. To even getting featured in Sportscenters’ top 10 plays once for a bicycle kick goal. He had everything going to exactly the route he planned.

    Then, things took an interesting turn.

    After playing he had to head back to his car. The only crappy part about the field is that you have to park your car in a more... unsavory part of town. He hadn’t had any problems up until than. Just keep your head down, stay alert, and keep to yourself. However that particular night he was completely thirsty. Slipping into an old connivence store. Darren started to buy a protein bar and some Gatorade when suddenly a foot slamming open the door and gunfire caused Darren to duck down. Some punk gang member looking guy had come in looking for some quick cash. The guy had no idea Darren was there considering he was in the back hidden behind sheaves. Deep down Darren spent a moment debating between keeping quiet and hoping things will end soon, or doing something. When the guy made a nasty racial slur to the owner who was Chinese. Darren finally decided he wasn’t going to let this go.

    It took some careful sneaking, and grabbing a bottle of ketchup and a candy bar on his part. But Darren distracted the crook by tossing the bar to another area of the store. When the guy went to look. He slipped falling face down on a suddenly existing puddle of ketchup. He didn’t get much time to then see Darren delivering a soccer kick right to his temple, knocking him right out. The whole story made the papers, people were telling Darren how brave he was (or how stupid he was considering the situation). None the less the whole thing got him publicity, and very good publicity at that.

    He hasn’t made too major a habit out of it. But occasional while making the trek back to his car if he spotted some horrible thing happening, and he felt brave enough to take it. He would throw the hoodie up over his face and swoop in, making the save. His been very picky about what would suffice though. After all it would only take one stray bullet to end his soccer career for good. Sure it can all be considered a bit foolish, and Darren didn’t even know about other people doing it or their website yet. Even taking the good press possibilities out of consideration. Darren did it because... there was something to it all. Something raw, something intangible. It was a feeling of pure good, that he was doing something real. It was impossible for him to really pinpoint the emotion. Since emotion wasn’t exactly something he flaunted all the time. However whatever it was, it felt real good.

    As the school day began though, none of that was really even on Darren mind. Instead his first period was in the gym’s weight room for a free period. Working a leg press while headphones on his head were connected to the MP3 player playing music he got from a teammate with a keen taste in tunes. As he finished his reps, there was a buzz followed up with some beeps. Getting up and going to check on what was a text message, feeling his legs burning as he walked. Pulling out the phone and unlocking it the number for the text was one he didn’t recognize. He almost deleted it before opening it just for kicks. All it was was for some website called ‘VigilanteesofCalli.com’. So while the name suggested it was created by some Nigerian prince telling him he won the Canadian lottery. He pulled up the site anyway. What he found certainly caught his attention. A whole forum devoted to bringing down the gangs in the city, from all these people who were seemingly... maybe his age. He took a seat down on the bench, not even thinking about his workout anymore as he looked through posts. Including one on a recent topic about some gang called the ‘construction crew’ (well thats a stupid name...). It all piqued his curiosity, so he entered into the account registration. Getting to work on making a profile for the site, with the handle ‘pannafreestyler’.
    Last edited by Haikufrenzy; 03-23-2013 at 02:46 AM.


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  5. #5
    Mad Thinker Mastermind001's Avatar
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    {Arthur Eames}


    _Test_

    Arthur drew out his pen from his mesh bag as a test paper was placed on his desk. He tried to think of the subject, but the only thing came to his mind were the words Pepper Master due to a youtube video from last night. Hours of studying and one video messes that up. Damn you, youtube, damn you to hell...Arthur cursed in his mind as he wrote down his name and the date. No, this can not be. I will not be defeated by PAPER! I'll crush you and the damn teacher, too.. He thought as he stared at the paper and then at the teacher. As he glanced at the teacher, he also spotted the clock with wide eyes. OH SHIT! Its six minutes in the test and I still haven't done anything. Think, Brain, Think, use all the cunning...He continued as he panicked. Arthur then picked up his test and turned a few pages as he scanned the questioned and what types of questions were on it.

    Arthur smirked. Multiple choice and I know about 80% of the test, no wonder, I thought of myself as the Pepper Master, cause I got this...He thought confidently as he placed down the test and lowered his pen filled with blue ink. Bow, before your new master...Arthur thought cheerfully as he started to fill in bubble after bubble for each question. What?! You actually thought, you had me? Blah, my memory superior, you're questions inferior...His grin became wider as he came across a much more difficult question yet he knew the solution to solve it. He recalled some of the notes he made last night, before he flicked on his laptop.

    To everyone else, Arthur was ordinarily just just taking a test like anyone else, but in his mind, he was waging a war on test questions and his sole weapon is the pen, which he had dubbed the pen blade. I have way too much fun...He commented as he continued to work. He rechecked some of his earlier answered questions to be sure, he was correct.
    - Let's go build some dinobots.

  6. #6
    Jill of all Trades KeaShell's Avatar
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    The air was bitter, the odd wind stroking Cassie's skin as she walked into it reluctantly. The only good thing about it was that it brushed her long blonde hair out of her face for her, and made it sway in the wind. She loved that feeling. She kept her thin crochet jacket wrapped around her, as she tried to focus her bright blue eyes on the starry sky instead of the weight of her backpack. Most people probably wouldn't find it as heavy as she did; she was sick. Again. The effects were similar to what they usually are: less energy, dulled muscular capabilities, blurred eyesight and hearing. On top of her illness, she wasn't very well fed. Although she cooked for herself, her brother, and her Aunt, there was only so much that could go around. She always purposely took a little less than both of them. Her brother needed the food to help him focus during class, which he sometimes had difficulty with. And her Aunt is the one that pays for the food. What does she do? Tutor? She didn't think she worked hard enough to eat as much as the other two, so she was more than happy to take less than them. Though this went unnoticed to most students, it didn't go unnoticed to her. Taking a few more steps to find a place she deemed safe to rest for a moment, she dropped her backpack on the ground next to a building, and plopped down beside it, resting her head against its coarse surface, and her legs on the concrete below.

    For only a few seconds, she closed her eyes, but then remembered her location. She opened them again and began scanning her surroundings, making sure no one was around. Paranoid, she patted her thin jacket pocket to check if the cash she had earned from tutoring tonight was still there. She felt a small, rectangular bump, and sighed in relief. She was always worried things would fall from her pocket. leaning her head to the left, she spotted a man walk into her view from around a corner. He kept going in the same direction, not turning towards her, but he did turn his head towards her to see her sitting there. He waved politely, and she waved back, but did not take her eyes off of him when he looked away. She watched him closely, making sure he didn't try anything. When he walked out of sight, she hung her head and closed her eyes, thankful nothing had happen. When she brought her head back up, ready to continue on, she heard a click, and felt something cold and sharp against her throat. Every muscle in her body immediately froze.

    "Stand up. Slowly. And keep your hands on your head." came a rough voice, which she was too frightened to look at. She put her hands on her head, tormentingly slowly, and stood up at about the same pace. Her eyes were frozen wide and in place. "Now turn to me." She did as she was told, and saw a rough looking man with a toboggan and a thick winter jacket on. His facial hair was unkempt, as was his hygiene. Keeping his knife in place, he grinned, and with his other hand he started patting her pockets. He reached in and pulled out five 20 dollar bills. Cassie cried inside, but didn't let it show. Fear swelled in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't let it show. Anger boiled in her throat, but she didn't let it show. She knew what kind of man this was. Unless she acted out against him, she would come out okay in the end. And her life was worth more than a night's work in cash. Instead of letting her emotions get the best of her, she remained calm; that was the only way to analyse and calculate a situation, after all. She would save the sobbing for later. "Anything in that backpack?" He asked. She made sure that a little bit of fear escaped from her voice, so that the man felt as in charge of the situation as he was.

    "Only my school books." She said, her voice shaking a little.

    "Don't lie to me!" The man snapped. She was telling the truth, that money was the only thing of worth she had on her.

    "I'm telling the truth!" She yelled, letting a single tear escape. She did it only to show the man he was mentally effecting her, but it was twice as hard now to keep her tears back, after letting one go.

    "Don't yell at me!" He screamed, and slapped her in the face with the back of his hand. She whelped at the contact, which made a loud thumping noise, rather than a slapping noise. It would've caused a bruise on most people, but with her body weaker than most, the bruise formed instantly and deeply. She turned her head, unable to completely hold back the crying. She sniffled, as more tears escaped.

    "Hey!" They heard from behind the man. It was another man, who began running at the two. The thug quickly cursed under his breath, and delivered a strong punch to Cassie's stomach, causing her to bend over. He elbowed her on her back, making her fall down, and then he sprinted away. Both hits immediately caused large bruising and even larger pain. She started crying, still holding back the full extent of her tears. She was surprised she didn't faint- that man hit her pretty hard. The other man made it to her and knelt over, asking her something that she couldn't make out.

    "Ah-" She tried to speak, but found herself unable to. The man took off his jacket and laid it on the ground, and took off his shirt and wrinkled it up to act like a pillow at the end. He helped cassie lay down on it, before inspecting her.

    "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm a doctor. I'm going to look you over, you're going to be just fine." He pressed two fingers to her wrist, and quickly pressed them underneath her jawline. He started to inspect where she had been hit, and blew out a large breath as he finished his examinations. "You're hurt pretty badly, but I can help you. We need to get you inside, I live right here." He helped her up and started walking indoors with her.

    "Wait-" She managed to get the word out. He stopped and looked at her. "I'm fine..." her vision was coming back to her, her senses were becoming more astute, and she felt able to walk again.

    "No you're not, those bruises are going to be pretty bad if we don't tend to them." He talked with care and patience. But she broke away from him, stumbling at first, but catching herself and regaining her demeanor.

    "Thank you, but I said I'm fine." She spoke with resolve, and the doctor sighed.

    "Alright, but at least let me carry your bag for you." He said, pointing it out. She nodded, secretly grateful that she wouldn't have to carry it all the way home. The man put his shirt and jacket back on, picked up the bag, and confirmed that he was prepared. She led the way home.

    They were both silent the entire way. She didn't want to talk to him because she didn't know him well, and he didn't know what to say to such a petite girl with such a unique attitude and resolve. Each step that Cassie took pained her, but she pulled through. When they finally arrived, he dropped her pack on the ground, nodded, and turned to leave.

    "Thank you..." She said, unsure if she should talk to him, but extremely grateful for what he had done. He turned and nodded again with a smile. "I'm sorry... I don't... trust easily." He frowned a little, but shrugged, turned, and left. She grabbed her bag, still on the verge of tears, and entered the apartment.

    "Is that you, Cassie?" Came a familiar, caring voice from another room.

    "Yeah! I have a lot of homework to do, so please don't bother me for a while!" She said back casually but lovingly. She heard a short laugh.

    "Alright. Good luck!" Cassie went up to her room, each step paining her not only because of the injuries, but also because of how incredibly helpless she was. When she got there, she let her backpack fall from her, got into bed, and wept.

    ***

    The next day, she had tended to her wounds with ice, bandages for pressure, and a few other things she found around the house. By now, her Aunt Rachel had learned that prodding Cassie too much would never lead to information, so she didn't smother her with questions, but when she saw large bruise on the left of her face, she asked what happened. She did what a mother would do to a child at first, but when Cassie simply shook her head, she frowned. Daniel, her little brother, had asked some questions too, but he also knew not to overdo it. Hopefully, no one at school would either. As they were about to leave, their Aunt stopped them.

    "Cassie," She started, "Take this." She tossed a bottle at Cassie, and after a quick inspection, she identified it as mace. She zipped it up in her backpack, and ran to hug her Aunt.

    "I love you." she said quietly, which her Aunt repeated to her. Today, Cassie sported her usual attire. Light blue, worn out tennis shoes, some dulled out jeans, an old white t-shirt, and her favorite (and only) light blue, wool, thinned, worn out, crochet woven jacket. She had put her hair in a ponytail before leaving with Daniel to walk to school.

    Upon arriving, after Daniel had left, she immediately noticed eyes on her. Almost everyone around was glancing back at her, seeing the bruise on her face. Her expression was unchanged though, as were her actions. Her first class was English, one that she particularly liked. Partly because of the teacher, and partly because of her natural ability in the subject. Even the teachers knew not to ask too many questions about her. She continued the day as normally as ever.
    Last edited by KeaShell; 03-22-2013 at 09:48 PM.

  7. #7
    I'm BatMan Bluemoon277's Avatar
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    Juliet tried to force her back onto the floor. Juliet's back leg was in the way of her cream carpet of course, but she was determined. *She had been trysting to perfect her splits almost all day switching from left to right from side to side. The orange sunset sky soon disappeared into blackness. Past Juliet's window in the distance were city lights glimmering in the cold night. Inside the thick walls of Juliet's room a pop song blasted through speakers. *Juliet lifted herself from her left splits, and into a simple standing position. The teen made her way over to her desktop bobbing her head to the beat of her music as she pranced. " How to be a heartbreaker....boys they like a look of danger" Juliet mumbled to the song shaking her mouse to awaken her computer.

    Juliet leaned over her swivel chair not expecting to be at her computer long. She scrolled through threads on a website she frequented. 'VigilanteesofCali.com' The address bar read. *Juliet clicked on a bolder thread reading 'Construction Crew'. Juliet skimmed the post already made by other members. The gang had been troubling Juliet. She knew she wasn't good enough to stop the gang, and she could only hope if she and other vigilantes got together they could do at least a little something. Juliet underestimated herself a lot because of this she normally only tried to stop small crimes.*Juliet knew others had stopped muggers with knives or even guns, but Juliet all she did was chose down bad guys who stole purses.*

    The thought of her own self pity caused Juliet to go out again tonight. It had been a while since she last did because of completions she had to practice for. Juliet grabbed the pieces of her costume from the back of her closet. She flung her curtains closed. *Music still blasted from Juliet's speakers, And she had to admit it sounded a bit like a theme song as she changed.*

    Juliet slid open her window climbing out onto slightly wet grass. She closed the window behind her quietly. Thankfully her mother and stepfather were away for the weekend, but Juliet wouldn't want to wake up her baby brother. He would worry about her more then anyone. He is a worry wart in the first place. She didn't need to add insult to injure.*

    Juliet traveled quickly to the city. She was, as some might say, as busy as a bee. Juliet moved through the shadows as much as possible, doing her best to not draw attention to herself. As she turned into a dark alley way a man had pinned a smaller guy to a brick wall. Juliet looked on at the Criminal activity. " Try something funny somebody will get hurt and it won't be me" The mugger warned. Juliet decided it was time to stop underestimating herself. If others could do it she could to. Probably. Juliet pulled up her bandana and slipped on her brass knuckles.*


    "Hey" Juliet yelled over to the man. He turned a look of annoyance spread across his face. " stay out of this you wouldn't want to get hurt" The man stated turning back to his victim who was slowly reaching for his wallet. Juliet probably picked the worse course of action at the point. She ran up to the man hitting him as hard as she could across the back of his head. The fell to the ground splashing in a small puddle. He called her a serious of foul mouthed words before getting up and returning a blow to the now rather scarred Juliet. She stumbled and adrenaline kicked in. Juliet put her fist up again pushing herself not to runaway. After a serious of blows to one another Juliet finally knocked out the mugger with hit to his forehead. The mugger hit the ground this time not getting up. He had a black eye after the brawl and a few scraps. Juliet was barely any better. Juliet turned to say something to the almost victim of the mugger. Sadly he had run away about half way through the fight. " your very welcome" She mumbled under her breath a bit annoyed that he didn't even stay.*

    She pulled out her phone flipping it open. Juliet had got many go phones so no one could track her identity. She called the policy department, and she informed them where a cinemas was. Juliet hoped they got here before the mugger woke up, but Juliet didn't have time to wait and find out. Juliet hurried home, climbing others fences, and jumping over bushes. After finally returning to her home Juliet turned off her music. She removed her clothes to look over here injuries in the mirror. Unfortunately it was a little more then she could blame on a cheer leading accident.*

    ------------------------------

    " Juliet,Juliet I said how did you get these bruises" The school nurse asked. Juliet snapped back to reality with the nurses call. It seemed she had drifted off while talking to her. " oh, sorry, I went off there for a second. Anyway yeah I was practicing some jumps and I kinda fell a lot" Juliet lied laughing a bit and scratching the back of her head. The nurse looked at her apprehensively raising an eyebrow at the girl. " are you sure there's nothing going on" She prodded again. "Positive" Juliet replied quickly "You don't have to worry about me" She added quickly. The nurses signed Juliet's pass, and she gave Juliet some ice. "Okay then, well. Make sure you are more careful. Next time you practice" The nurse said showing Juliet the way out.*

    Juliet left the nurses office sighing in relief. * "I really should be more careful" Juliet told herself as she walked back to her first period class. " I also need to not accidentally hit my bruised arm on another person" She continued to mumble. *That is what got her in trouble in the first place. If she would have just avoided that one student the teacher would have never noticed her bruises, and she would never have had to explain anything. Not to mention that now the Nurse had suspicions that she was being beat by someone.*

    The clacking of Juliet's shoes were the only sound in the hallway. Her hair bounced with every step as did her skirt, and the bright clothes she wore were no contrast to the already bright surrounding. After climbing two flights of stairs Juliet entered her class room. Unfortunately they *were taking a test. Juliet quickly returned to her seat hoping she wasn't noticed. The teacher handed her a test while asking about the nurses office. Juliet anwsered him at a whisper only the few students around her hearing her anwser of "she told me to be more careful while practicing". Juliet looked down to her test after that not wanting to get anymore attention, though she knew she would through out the day. She always did now adays*


    "Bitch." - Dean Winchester



  8. #8
    Microwave the Mustard Blazion's Avatar
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    Feb 2010
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    The streets were peacefully calm this late at night, most good folk having long ago retired which left the seedier parts of town crawling with activity, but here at the apartments near Coral Cove’s college it was quiet and calm. The moon shone overhead, giving a light illumination where street lights didn’t meet and guiding the path of the lone jogger as she headed home, her only company being her own breath and heavy footfalls echoing in her ears.

    Zoey rather liked the peaceful atmosphere late night running provided. There was no dodging around loud people or crowds of friends refusing to unlink their arms to let others pass on the narrow sidewalk. Not to mention she didn’t have to wear the stuffy, classy clothes that she normally did to keep up appearances. Who was even there to judge her for the plain old hoody and dark track pants? It was just herself, the path before her, and a healthy appreciation for how her blood was pumping adrenaline through her body. Adrenaline that seemed to spike at a rather frantic cry for help that had Zoey scrambling to stop her quick pace and search out its source, eyes darting about.

    An alley she had just passed seemed the most likely culprit, whimpering and barking laughter echoing out of it now that she had stopped to listen. Zoey backtracked to glance down the narrow path, finding a site that was becoming increasingly less unusual in the crime spiked city. Some thug in nondescript clothing akin to herself had beaten some poor guy he had caught alone into submission, kicking at his ribs as the young man curled into a whimpering ball. She vaguely recognized the helpless victim as one of those she passed by in the college halls.

    “Come on, give it up! You gotta have more than this!” The bigger man waved a wallet and cellphone in the younger one’s face almost mockingly, accented by another heavy kick that had him falling into a choking coughing fit. From the entrance of the alleyway Zoey stepped back even as her hand went to her hoody pockets, meeting the soft black material stowed away inside. She honestly didn’t know what possessed her to buy the full headed mask when she found it the same day she had chased down some purse snatcher, or even pocket it in her hoody before she took off every night, but the weight of it seemed to grow heavy as she looked ahead and heard the whimpers mixed with the thug’s yelling. There was so little reason for her to intervene, and more reason for her not to. The last thing Zoey needed after all that’s happened was being caught by police for some moronic shot at heroism; getting herself hurt for some stranger was not at the top of the list for fun things to do either.

    Then against this wasn’t the first night she had this inner debate. As always the mask seemed to grow as heavy as any weapon she could carry the longer Zoey stood there, out of the attention; safe. More than that the weight in her mind cried out for attention, pressing in on her; she could do something. As always, the reckless side of her won out. Zoey was not some helpless citizen or uncaring passerby, she was better than those who fell to crime or even stood idly by.

    Finally Zoey turned her back on the scene, but rather than slink off defeated her gloved hands grabbed onto the mask and brought it out, quickly pulling it over her head and making sure her long tresses were tucked inside. Other nights had given Zoey the wisdom to cut out holes for her eyes, so her vision wasn’t impaired. With her hood still up Zoey turned back around and entered the alleyway, footsteps echoing off the walls of the tall buildings on either side of her. It finally caught the attention of the aggressor of the fight and he turned to her, Zoey stopping a few paces away. The large man glanced her over before his gaze landed on her mask clad face, and he seemed to come to some conclusion about why she was here as he waved her off in favor of turning back to the quivering ball at his feet with little more than a rumbling comment directed to her.

    “Back off bud, this one’s mine.” Just like that something was set aflame deep inside Zoey, though the man before her would never know why. She was not some criminal, a shadow of her father mimicking his every bad decision with the same hollow greed. Beneath the mask Zoey’s teeth grit, the hood covering how her eyes narrowed and body tensed. When the man finally looked over once more he didn’t notice any of the subtle changes in posture and resolve that screamed of aggression, just scoffing to the hooded figure.

    “The fuck you still doing here?” His words were followed up by a roaring scream of pain as with a few steps and one fluid motion the palm of Zoey’s glove smashed upwards into his nose, cartilage crushing under the brutal surprise assault. As he stumbled back clutching his face Zoey didn’t relent, knowing her only advantage in this fight was surprise. Her foot followed up with an equally low blow between the legs, and when he doubled over her elbow was brought down harshly to the back of his head. The grungy man collapsed like a sack of potatoes, his stolen items abandoned as he groaned on the ground.

    I guess the bigger they are…’ Zoey mused, grabbing onto the wallet and phone before turning to the wide eyed young man nearby. The beaten victim flinched when his savior extended a hand towards him, sinking in on himself and blubbering.

    “I-I swear, like I told him, I don’t have anything else! I don’t have anything else!” Her elated mood at succeeding crashed at his words, irritation building up inside her. It showed as she roughly grabbed onto his arm to haul him up and without a word to inquire if he needed any assistance she shoved his items into his arms and stalked off, stepping over the man she had downed. Seconds later Zoey could hear his feet pounding against the pavement as he took off without so much as a backwards thanks.

    A few blocks away Zoey finally felt safe enough to pull the mask off and stuff it in her pocket, though her glowering expression was now on full view. She had risked her hide to save that guy and had only won with luck and surprise, and all he could think was two thugs were fighting over his meager little wallet. Still, she supposed it wasn’t about praise… She had saved someone.

    Just the thought brought Zoey’s grin back, and her pace slowly picked up as she once more began to jog back home. The rather goofy grin was still dominating when she walked through the threshold of her apartment, all poise gone with her cheerful demeanor. As Zoey passed through the living room she flipped open her laptop sitting on the coffee table, leaving it to boot up to grab a bottle of water from her fridge for a cool down. When she returned, half of the bottle downed already, the login screen was patiently waiting for either password or fingerprint. Zoey casually swiped her index finger across the scanner, and after the cheerful login music played navigated to open up her web browser and visit her new favorite site.

    Admittedly when she had first gotten the link for VigilanteesofCalli.com Zoey had thought it was some novelty shirt site with a lame pun in the title. She had almost dismissed altogether, but she was bored and ended up going to see what kind of merchandise they had. To say she was surprised to find the sprawling forums dedicated to actual vigilantes would be an understatement, but it faded away to morbid curiosity the longer she browsed. Now she had her own account that looked back at her as she logged in, proudly proclaiming ‘Welcome back, Zed’.

    Zoey never could say she was particularly original.

    ‘Zed’, as per usual, had no activity on the account. No posts, messages, nothing; the only indication that they even visited was the constant lurking. It wasn’t unusual to see Zed’s name listed among those viewing some of the most recently updated threads, as was the situation currently. Zoey’s eyes scanned the posts under the Construction Crew thread as she drank her water, scrolling down to read each new post. Honestly it sounded like some of these guys were getting a little suicidal. She was all for stopping muggings when she could, but those hits on the bank were done by professionals. They were deadly, and it wasn’t some Saturday morning cartoon where they’d go easy on someone trying to stand up to them just because they were teenagers.

    Then again as a wise man said, all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. Zoey wasn’t the type to let that happen, not anymore. The now empty water bottle was set aside, and her fingers played over the keys of her laptop idly. Still, there was little for her to say that wasn’t already. Finally she shook her head, red tresses moving with her and instead saved the thread to keep viewing before shutting the laptop cover. Maybe the time would come she could redeem herself in her own eyes, and maybe it would be doing something reckless like facing down a fully armed gang when the police were too useless to do anything, but until then all Zoey did was lurk. The time would come.

    Just not now.

    ---

    Zoey exhaled heavily as she tried to keep from nodding off, her usual impassive expression in place as she attempted to ward off the boredom and focus on her professor. The lecture hall was filled with other students attempting to do the same, the professor’s low droning filling the air in a dull monotone. While Zoey could normally at least focus in her classes, and the curriculum for this particular one caught her interest, it was offset by the unfortunate fact that it also possessed the most boring instructor it possibly could. Something about his tone and lack of enthusiasm set most minds either wandering or slipping into a drowsy haze, Zoey caught in the middle of both.

    Her half-lidded gaze slid away from the elderly professor to the clock in the corner of her laptop screen. There was still a decent chunk of time until she was free of this class for the rest of the day. In a vain attempt to perk herself up Zoey minimized the document of notes she had half-heartedly typed out in favor of browsing the web on the school’s wi-fi. As she glanced over the feed on the local news website Zoey’s immaculate posture couldn’t help but straighten that little bit more.

    So the Construction Crew had struck again. Once again the police had dropped the ball and they had slipped away, the only bright spot being that there were no casualties. Of course who knew how much longer that would go on? The corners of Zoey’s lips tugged downwards even as her fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into her palm. Something had to be done about them before that happened. Someone had to step up.

    Following the links provided for more information on the gang’s recent crime spree Zoey began to read up more on their escapades, drinking in every detail. It was foolish to think she would be that someone, but still she kept going. Some cynical thought in the back of her mind wondered if maybe these men had connections to her father’s associates, but it was quickly dismissed. She was in a whole new city where the name Kasimir could be passed off as a coincidence to the one that was showing up in news articles weeks ago, and no upper class snobs were looking down their noses to her after the incident. The fact she was looking so closely to the gang’s activity wasn’t because she had some drive to prove herself different, but rather morbid curiosity mixed with a need to amuse herself. She’d catch up on the classes’ lesson by herself later.

    Honestly, going through the textbook by her lonesome was more exciting than listening to that man anyway.
    Last edited by Blazion; 03-23-2013 at 05:39 PM.
    ಠ_ಠ

  9. #9
    Mad Thinker Mastermind001's Avatar
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    {Arthur Eames}

    _Test_


    Success... Arthur thought as he finished his check work. Certainly, it looked right to Arthur, but sadly even he thinks is right will definitely be different compared to the answer sheet. Hopefully...He thought as he placed down the pen on the table. The battle has ended, but the war continues....He thought as he straighten his test papers. Speaking of that, I may need to visit that tutor again, what was her name again, Zoey? Zoey,I think....He pondered as he attempted to recall his plans for after school, which seemed to be heading to a tutor for some extra help on certain subjects. It will come to me...He reassured himself as he got out of his desk and headed straight for the teacher with his test paper in hand.

    He set down the test on the desk and returned to his chair. On the way back, Arthur noticed a cheerleader, Juliet, if he had to think of a name, who was coming late into class. Apparently from the look of things, she was heading to the desk near his own. " Good Luck, its not that bad. " Arthur mentioned to her, but he figured she would ignore him or at the very least pretend he didn't exist. He then, returned to his desk and pulled out a book from his mesh bag. Don't think about the test, don't think about the test, Don't think about the test, for the love of god, don't think about the test...He thought as he opened his book and turned a page. He looked positively calm, but inside paranoia had returned in full force as dread flowed though his body.

    Arthur felt like his heart turn cold and his veins pumped ice water. Must think of Kamen Rider, think of one of the theme songs. Need distraction or distractions badly, AHHHH.....He thought while he turned another page.
    - Let's go build some dinobots.

  10. #10
    "Alright sweetie... ready when you are. Now take off that mask and uh... do a little dance for me, why don't y- Wait... what are you doing with that?!"

    WHAM! So, lets say you were a seventeen-year-old girl. And you were this close to being violated by the family man in a cardigan vest with three boys and a loving but unsuspecting wife who were away at grandma's for the week for a family reunion, but he said that he was much too busy with work to attend. Secretly, he was chatting over the internet with a bunch of lonely and desperate fifteen year olds who think they're shacking up with the captain of the baseball team, also an actor in the drama club who's been in, what... maybe five school plays? You would think that after knocking him cold, you'd run like a bat out of hell from his fancy apartment room.

    No, that wasn't the case for you. But how did you get here again? lets take a step back, alright? Imagine you're that exact same seventeen-year-old. You're working in some greasy spoon diner as a waitress. What's the first thing you do? You read the Sunday newspaper with a cup of coffee. You didn't like coffee? Well fuck you, you're not this girl then. Ocassionally, you'd have a smoke when you were really tense and only then just because you didn't want to end up cutting a hole through your throat just to speak. And well, hot damn... look at everything in this newspaper.

    "Drug war on the rise, five shot dead."
    "California father stabs son and daughter in head."
    "62-year-old woman found burned in bed."

    Remember when the news was simple and just had shit like the announcement of a candy store's grand opening or the obituary with all the deaths being liver cancer and old age? No? Well alrighty then. But the whole point was... catching an article that said something like "Hero torches whorehouse, eighteen underage girls freed from basement" was like a fisherman catching a six-foot swordfish.

    Exactly why we're here now... you're just the right girl for the job. Some minor with british parents, even though you were raised in the states with no one to care for and no one to return these feelings towards you. You've lived in shitty motel rooms and bunked in an old and sweet couple's guest room after giving them a fake name and the "Where's my mommy? Can you please help me find my mommy?!" act since the day you busted out of hell. Hell being a dull and drab foster family's clutches. Your name's Winona, kid. And here's looking at you.

    There's an unconscious body with stars looming over his head besides from where you're standing. But lets focus on that lovely red dress with frills you're wearing right now, eh? You loved to dress up like if it were your last day on this cold and cruel world and your last wish was to walk around wearing the blouse and skirt you love most. On a momentous occasion such as catching your first perv, you're entitled to wear something fancy for such an event! You blow the nail polish on your fingernails like a birthday candle. But lets cut the whole second person thing out... for now.

    Standing at the end of the bed and pulling back the cat mask that gave off a sort of creepy Chesire-style smile slightly to reveal the right side of her face, one out of two of her hazel eyes stared down the massive bump on that sicko's forehead just above his brow. The look on his face was kind of stupid and almost made her giggle... it looked like he was pleasuring himself. Giving a very wide and toothy grin, that same smile quickly wiped itself off after hearing a growl out of the blue... the fucking family Doberman that was sleeping in the kitchen un-noticed, ready to tear her a new one after she knocked the living daylights out of her master, of course. "Fucking hell." She said in a surprised manner that shockingly wasn't that surprised. The briefcase was more closer to the beast with a vicious look on its face, giving the mutt the upper hand. Her eyes slowly creaked over to the door, the dog got ready to attack... and so she did.

    Jumping right at her arm, Winona dodged the dog and lunged over to wall. Skidding on its legs to make a turn, a smack from a baseball bat the guy's son had lying around flew across the canine's face, making her wince. Without even getting the chance of grabbing the door with her bony little fingers, the Doberman pinned her right up against the wall that she was leaning against. Holding it with one arm and shoving its snout away with the other, she gave it a sneer, slamming it against the floor and pinning its head against the carpet. While still holding its face down as it snarled, Winona grabbed the bat and forced the handle against its teeth, hopping up and sprinting to the door.

    The dog whined and struggled to get up, running towards Winona, only for its jaw to be slammed between the door frame and the edge of the door itself. It yelped in pain, taken aback by the pressure. Once it did back off, Winona closed the door shut. Now all that was left was the evidence. How was she gonna reveal this guy for the total perv he was? Well, there was the laptop for one. Full of unmentionable smut he got off to, plus there was the whole '911 being a phone call away' thing. She gave it a shot.

    Opening his laptop, the OS ran and the desktop was full of files marked under names such as 'Office Documents' and 'Financial Clients'. She knew what it really was for though... was it? Opening one of them for a quick second, it looked like it did. Until she opened one of the documents and found nothing but a bunch of fake shit that not even a legitimate accountant could make sense of. Now, on the family desktop were his actual work files, while his wife must not have known about this laptop. These files might have been there in case she ever found it to fool her, even though he might have kept it stashed somewhere very secretive until now while she was away. Peeling away and ramming through files and files, she actually found... something that made her throw up. Bingo... leaving the unmentionables open, she left a document open and typed:

    ""

    Leaving such a teasing message for the lazy donut-eaters, she cleaned the keyboard with a baby wipe and left it on the table, picking up the phone to call the police. "911, what is your emergency?" The operator asked.

    Winona took in a deep breath and smirked, suddenly bursting out in to tears. "H-H-Hello? Please, this man just tried to molest me, he brought me to his apartment while his wife and kids were away... a-a-and... oh god, please help! He's coming back, we're at the apartments on League Avenue, please hurry!" She cried, hanging up the phone. Weeping for a while and wiping away her tears, she finally looked up to the door and gave a look of deadpan. "Grade-A suckers." She remarked, exiting out the door, down the hall, into the elevator. Pressing the lobby button, she leaned her back against the bars and relaxed for the meantime. The elevator ride was a long way down... or at least it felt that way. Looking up to the camera, she flashed it a peace sign while wearing her mask, then looked back to the elevator door.

    8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

    The exact same number of times she blinked before she exited in to the hallway and out the back way.
    Last edited by David Starsky; 04-08-2013 at 08:12 PM.

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