Playing games was, well, somewhat of a familiarity to her, even if half those 'games' were hardly fitting of the fair terms of amusement or exhilarating nature. Where as there was always a hell lot of people playing games in Oldcity, there was twice as many people who weren't so keen on seeing them for what they were and how they themselves had been made players by much more unconditional means. These weren't just any games, these were dangerous games, structured to benefit one particular player or purpose in some rigged outcome. While everyone else went on trying to live with the hopeful concept of ever being given any one real resolve to the complying problems in Oldcity, she had moved on and started to do what needed to be done. For how many times had she found herself being thrown into the circumstance of another player, undesiring to play said game at the decisions of far more powerful and shady individuals around her? She had her fair share of experiences no doubt, most of which had taught her lessons only understandable by the subject of being a victim within. Bad things didn't just happen to people without a reason in Oldcity, so much as the reason for bad things happening, was often much more elaborate and conspiring in nature.
To some she had become a saviour, to others a destroyer. Regardless of titles, her intentions of fixing Oldcity were hardly unnoticed, as much as they were effective in their method. Some might argue that effect and morale were completely two different things and to some definitive, she might agree. Maybe that's why she felt guilty about half the things she did? Contemplated the real meaning behind them? While her actions always spoke for her..? Being sure felt like star gazing into a sky lacking of any stars at all and only just catching the glint of the tiniest flare and hoping it were a star. To stare into the absence of her trial and error and try to pull some better purpose out of anything she did, just felt like the worst kind of way of battering her own self guilt or grievances when it came to doing something she knew she might regret, but just couldn't refrain herself from doing.
Ultimately her methods had been effective to those she deemed to destroy or torment in some megalomaniac craving for burying the sins of Oldcity beneath the ashes she made. They wouldn't get away with this.. she'd kill every last one of them.. Letting her conscience slip into the absence of her own catastrophic thoughts, always seemed to give her a weird sort of jive to glee. Where others saw a maniac behind a peculiar arrangement of pink, green and black shades, she saw an answer to something she could have only dreamed of existing at a time far before she had been made into a brutalized victim of what Oldcity could turn you into, especially when Newcity was anything far from as justified as it played itself out to be..
”I'll ask you again.. Where'd the money go?” The voice of an irritable lanky male dressed in all black, totting a rather heavy duty rifle, continued to fraternize her with his meager attempts to interrogate her. This whole interrogation thing had been going on for what was well over ten minutes and already the victim of it all could feel her patience collapsing. Then of course the jackass with the gun decided to butt her across the cheek with the stock. He wanted to hit that hard huhh..?! Phoebe's concern for the matter only dreaded further the longer she found herself loosely bound to a chair and incapable of really stopping any further 'heckling' from the felon in front of her.
At first she'd only muse to motion her pink glossed lips around against her upper lip, her tongue gently trying to reach and extend to dip in a little of the blood made up of the small wound on the corner of her lip. Ohhh.. this asshole enjoying thiss.. She should have known better. Feeling somewhat appeased by the light sample of claret coating the corner of her lip, a light humming slowly began to expel from the light tremble of her lip and echo further throughout the empty contains of the warehouse she were held prisoner in. She made no immediate attempt to comply to the light beating the felon in front of her gave her, only seeming maintained by the meager almost delusional reaction she displayed back to him and letting that light meshing of tasting the light drizzle of blood on her lip slowly entice her further, into some maddened temptation only understood by the deepest recess of her unstable mind.
Clearly the felon in front of her disapproved of her chosen reaction to the conditions of trying to make the oddly costumed woman in front of him, compliant to any ounce of showing cooperation. While his 'patience' ran thinner by the noted display of his own twitching partaking in his stature, Phoebe's own gaze gently started to poke around the room as if to avoid answering the question at all. The strangest thing was that she hardly seemed intimidated by anything the felon in front of her said.
“Im gonna ask you one more time RiotBitch.. Where did you 'misplace' our money?!” His tone raised, his arms gesturing up during the verbal declaration of announcing the few other goons standing around the room, all of which seemed almost matching in terms of wardrobe and load-out to some comparatively familiar fashion. Ohh she didn't like that.. That name always..-! The first verbal reaction of the girl with the bloody lip, who only seemed to find some sort of masochist pleasure in the idea of tasting the sample of her own blood, started in the gentle cackling of a light giggle. While her head stayed hung down as if to pronounce some sort of fatigue from the abuse of the situation, her desire for fulfilment or cracking endurance seemed to waver in the odd presentation of that particular giggle. It was like listening to a child giggle and glee away at the subject of something they found funny as with that laugh she somehow seemed to dissolve the entire hostile feeling of the mood, only to replace it with a rather eerie atmosphere of deviance.
"Phoebe, the girl beneath the mask"
“You knoww.. I don't like that-t.. name-e..!” She replied, her tone underlying in a thick essence of carefree delusional response, her words seeming to almost shake and drag as she spoke. It were like Phoebe took the entire circumstance of her situation and turned it into some inevitable cryptic joke that had yet to unfold and take these 'problems' of hers, by horrific surprise. Following the light cackle of her own mortifying response, her chin edged up and the deep sapphire blue of hers eyes peered menacingly into the eyes of the felon in front of her. It were like she were trying to peer into the core of his soul, her lips hung on the arch of a devious sneer growing and extending further across her face. “Oh comee.. onn-n!” She'd say, rolling her eyes and slowly letting that dreadful sneer of a stare slip away and into the absence of the dark silent warehouse around her. “You only gonnaa.. hit me once-e..? Pfftt! Youu gotta try-y harderr then that.. too-!” Her sentence meant an abrupt halt as the felon with the gun in front of her gave her another hard whack in the cheek with the stock of the rifle.
"The Warehouse"
The blow surprised her, causing her chin to collide with the hard wooden end of the gun for a second time and kiss a loud 'smack' of a sound to her cheek. Ow.. She could feel the side of her mouth sting, a few teeth rattle from the impact.. The force of the blow caused her head to turn in painful disregarding momentum as she found herself actually staggered by the force of the hit. Dizziness sung through her head, her cheek stinging in sharp correspondence to the blow given to her. Asshole wasn't suppose too to do thatt..! Agitation took her next causing her to throw her attention back to the felon in front of her while the flustered state of her persona seemed to slowly start to reach one of actual intention, as opposed to the act she was putting on for a certain someone and there certain unpunctuality to show up and 'address' the situation in a certain timely matter. She had been waiting a long time to meet this.. Skarlet Avenger after all..
A light maniacal laughter started to sing from her trembling lips, before she'd slowly start shaking her head in decline to some unspoken concept that only she could understand. Phoebe's eyes were like talons digging into the presence of the henchmen in front of her who she was suspecting was enjoying having her play hostage for the sake of the bigger scheme at hand.
“Youu.. weren't suppose-e.. to do thatt-t!” The euphoria in her tone edged further on the longer her statement peaked into hysterical pleasant response. Despite clearly being annoyed with how things had rolled over and having a certain henchmen of her's take his apparent sadist fetish of hitting her further then he should, it were like Phoebe's exclamation of aggression was maintained by some falsified indomitable congenial charade.
Oh.. Skarlet Avenger would have no real idea what she was about to get herself into..
To some she had become a saviour, to others a destroyer. Regardless of titles, her intentions of fixing Oldcity were hardly unnoticed, as much as they were effective in their method. Some might argue that effect and morale were completely two different things and to some definitive, she might agree. Maybe that's why she felt guilty about half the things she did? Contemplated the real meaning behind them? While her actions always spoke for her..? Being sure felt like star gazing into a sky lacking of any stars at all and only just catching the glint of the tiniest flare and hoping it were a star. To stare into the absence of her trial and error and try to pull some better purpose out of anything she did, just felt like the worst kind of way of battering her own self guilt or grievances when it came to doing something she knew she might regret, but just couldn't refrain herself from doing.
Ultimately her methods had been effective to those she deemed to destroy or torment in some megalomaniac craving for burying the sins of Oldcity beneath the ashes she made. They wouldn't get away with this.. she'd kill every last one of them.. Letting her conscience slip into the absence of her own catastrophic thoughts, always seemed to give her a weird sort of jive to glee. Where others saw a maniac behind a peculiar arrangement of pink, green and black shades, she saw an answer to something she could have only dreamed of existing at a time far before she had been made into a brutalized victim of what Oldcity could turn you into, especially when Newcity was anything far from as justified as it played itself out to be..
”I'll ask you again.. Where'd the money go?” The voice of an irritable lanky male dressed in all black, totting a rather heavy duty rifle, continued to fraternize her with his meager attempts to interrogate her. This whole interrogation thing had been going on for what was well over ten minutes and already the victim of it all could feel her patience collapsing. Then of course the jackass with the gun decided to butt her across the cheek with the stock. He wanted to hit that hard huhh..?! Phoebe's concern for the matter only dreaded further the longer she found herself loosely bound to a chair and incapable of really stopping any further 'heckling' from the felon in front of her.
At first she'd only muse to motion her pink glossed lips around against her upper lip, her tongue gently trying to reach and extend to dip in a little of the blood made up of the small wound on the corner of her lip. Ohhh.. this asshole enjoying thiss.. She should have known better. Feeling somewhat appeased by the light sample of claret coating the corner of her lip, a light humming slowly began to expel from the light tremble of her lip and echo further throughout the empty contains of the warehouse she were held prisoner in. She made no immediate attempt to comply to the light beating the felon in front of her gave her, only seeming maintained by the meager almost delusional reaction she displayed back to him and letting that light meshing of tasting the light drizzle of blood on her lip slowly entice her further, into some maddened temptation only understood by the deepest recess of her unstable mind.
Clearly the felon in front of her disapproved of her chosen reaction to the conditions of trying to make the oddly costumed woman in front of him, compliant to any ounce of showing cooperation. While his 'patience' ran thinner by the noted display of his own twitching partaking in his stature, Phoebe's own gaze gently started to poke around the room as if to avoid answering the question at all. The strangest thing was that she hardly seemed intimidated by anything the felon in front of her said.
“Im gonna ask you one more time RiotBitch.. Where did you 'misplace' our money?!” His tone raised, his arms gesturing up during the verbal declaration of announcing the few other goons standing around the room, all of which seemed almost matching in terms of wardrobe and load-out to some comparatively familiar fashion. Ohh she didn't like that.. That name always..-! The first verbal reaction of the girl with the bloody lip, who only seemed to find some sort of masochist pleasure in the idea of tasting the sample of her own blood, started in the gentle cackling of a light giggle. While her head stayed hung down as if to pronounce some sort of fatigue from the abuse of the situation, her desire for fulfilment or cracking endurance seemed to waver in the odd presentation of that particular giggle. It was like listening to a child giggle and glee away at the subject of something they found funny as with that laugh she somehow seemed to dissolve the entire hostile feeling of the mood, only to replace it with a rather eerie atmosphere of deviance.
"Phoebe, the girl beneath the mask"
“You knoww.. I don't like that-t.. name-e..!” She replied, her tone underlying in a thick essence of carefree delusional response, her words seeming to almost shake and drag as she spoke. It were like Phoebe took the entire circumstance of her situation and turned it into some inevitable cryptic joke that had yet to unfold and take these 'problems' of hers, by horrific surprise. Following the light cackle of her own mortifying response, her chin edged up and the deep sapphire blue of hers eyes peered menacingly into the eyes of the felon in front of her. It were like she were trying to peer into the core of his soul, her lips hung on the arch of a devious sneer growing and extending further across her face. “Oh comee.. onn-n!” She'd say, rolling her eyes and slowly letting that dreadful sneer of a stare slip away and into the absence of the dark silent warehouse around her. “You only gonnaa.. hit me once-e..? Pfftt! Youu gotta try-y harderr then that.. too-!” Her sentence meant an abrupt halt as the felon with the gun in front of her gave her another hard whack in the cheek with the stock of the rifle.
"The Warehouse"
The blow surprised her, causing her chin to collide with the hard wooden end of the gun for a second time and kiss a loud 'smack' of a sound to her cheek. Ow.. She could feel the side of her mouth sting, a few teeth rattle from the impact.. The force of the blow caused her head to turn in painful disregarding momentum as she found herself actually staggered by the force of the hit. Dizziness sung through her head, her cheek stinging in sharp correspondence to the blow given to her. Asshole wasn't suppose too to do thatt..! Agitation took her next causing her to throw her attention back to the felon in front of her while the flustered state of her persona seemed to slowly start to reach one of actual intention, as opposed to the act she was putting on for a certain someone and there certain unpunctuality to show up and 'address' the situation in a certain timely matter. She had been waiting a long time to meet this.. Skarlet Avenger after all..
A light maniacal laughter started to sing from her trembling lips, before she'd slowly start shaking her head in decline to some unspoken concept that only she could understand. Phoebe's eyes were like talons digging into the presence of the henchmen in front of her who she was suspecting was enjoying having her play hostage for the sake of the bigger scheme at hand.
“Youu.. weren't suppose-e.. to do thatt-t!” The euphoria in her tone edged further on the longer her statement peaked into hysterical pleasant response. Despite clearly being annoyed with how things had rolled over and having a certain henchmen of her's take his apparent sadist fetish of hitting her further then he should, it were like Phoebe's exclamation of aggression was maintained by some falsified indomitable congenial charade.
Oh.. Skarlet Avenger would have no real idea what she was about to get herself into..
