Welcome! I'm not gonna talk rules & details and anything just yet and instead I'll just hit you.
It was cold and wet outside. A storm had come through late last night and soaked the place. Storms never bothered Natalie but storms and cold were something else. This cold bit down to her bones. Low fifties was normal for this late in March but low fifties was unpleasant to someone who used to live in Miami Beach. It almost never dipped below seventy there, but her old home wasn’t a place that was welcoming to her anymore. Here would have to do. It was far from the worst place she could be. People here didn’t know who she was. She liked it that way.
We can’t always have everything we want though. An unexpected, but familiar chime interrupted her brooding. A message ring on a cell phone ... but not from a phone that had rang in a long time. She should have left it be.Nothing good would come from answering her old work phone. From time to time she wondered why she kept the burner around. This became yet another. The thought of getting rid of it, of completely freeing herself from everything behind her, was tempting. As it chimed now though those dreams were dashed away. The past had decided to become the present.
Can you be at Herăstrău Park at 4? I have something that might interest you. –A Broker
She thought about saying no, about standing firm on her retirement. She should have, but curiosity inevitably got the better of her.
Yes, but I can promise nothing. -Nat
She couldn’t commit to taking a job. She didn’t have the gear for it, nor the desire to leave retirement ... not after everything that happened in Miami. Somehow she felt compelled to know what this was. She hadn’t even been in touch with the usual criminal circles in years. At minimum, she was curious how a broker had found her.
It was quarter to three and Herăstrău Park was all the way in the northern part of downtown. Natalie spun the dial on the small safe she kept in the coat closet. She kept passports, IDs, all of her various alias documents, and her old USP with ammo. She never carried that gun anymore. On the one hand, it had carried her through so many jobs that it was no longer a tool but an extension of herself. On the other, she had gotten careless on her last job so she was not sure the weapon wasn’t hot. It also was a powerful reminder of exactly what she had done, and why she could never go back.
That could wait for now. The past was in the past, and going into a possible trap, she wanted an old friend in her hand. Her usual concealed handgun just wasn’t good enough for this, ‘Old habits die hard’ and all. Her preference for the USP was still strong. She tenderly loaded the full magazine and set one into the chamber. The sidearm tucked comfortably into her waistband and concealed by the back of her coat, she left her apartment to seek some answers.
Herăstrău Park was an enormous place. That made it excellent for clandestine meetings … once one found who they were supposed to be meeting. There would always be a tell: an innocuous change to the surroundings just out of place enough to be noticed. A wide brick path wound through part of the park, weaving along underneath a low tangle of bare tree limbs. None of the greenery had begun to grow back yet. Shredded sunlight glowed weakly against the brick beneath her feet as the clouds above began to thin. She scanned back and forth, looking for anything that jumped out at her. At five past the hour, the supposed broker should already be somewhere waiting for her.
Some tells were more obvious than others, and this one was oddly specific. A bald man sat on a bench facing away from the path. With a button down shirt and khaki pants, he was poorly dressed for a walk in the park. On the bench opposite his back, facing the path there was a ball cap. Most people would assume it was his or lost, but Natalie knew it was her tell. A Miami Dolphins ball cap in the middle of Downtown Bucharest was no coincidence. She pushed the cap aside and sat down, facing away from the stranger, not quite back to back. To passers-by, they had nothing to do with each other.
“Nice weather today.”
Weather was a disingenuous question. That was a common code phrase to check if a person was followed. Far as Natalie knew, she was alone and the broker would be safe.
“Colder than I expected; what do you have for me?”
She didn’t dance around it. Even if standard practice among the advanced criminal underworld was to obfuscate the conversation, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be handled swiftly.
“I have a client who has an invitation for you,” the bald man answered.
That was perhaps the most damning sentence these conversations ever contained, and it was still too cryptic to prove anything legally.
“You know I’m retired. I’m out of the game.”
Natalie dismissed. Despite curiosity, she had no real intent to return to the trade. Also her romanian was still mediocre so she wanted to be done quickly.
“The prize money is very good.”
Doesn’t matter. I’m out of the game,” she repeated.
Money wouldn’t be enough to draw her back in. She didn’t need it and she certainly didn’t want back in.
“You were invited personally.”
That changed everything. The supposed client knew who she was and asked for her by name. She hadn’t done a job in years. She didn’t even have her rifles since she fled the States. The sun shining through the bound branches above her head burned through the clouds a little bit more as they talked.
“That changes nothing.”
“I see. I will inform the client his offer was declined.”
He seemed disappointed. Brokers normally didn’t care one way or the other. Things were beginning to feel ... off. Something was not right; Natalie felt as much.
“Can you tell me what the task was?”
“You know I cannot discuss details until after an offer is accepted.”
She had expected such a by-the-book answer. It was basic policy after all.
“Just this once for an old friend?”
Natalie never knew any of the brokers. “Old friend” really referenced her general notoriety within the criminal circles she used to be known in ... but that was stateside. Here she was just a tourist. The broker hesitated to break protocol, as he should.
“A client here asked for protection detail. He requested you directly.”
“I’m not a bodyguard, that’s not my problem.”
“I thought as much. Thank you for your time, madame Salazar.”
“Dios mio! Do not call me that!” she snapped, her natural Colombian accent coming through.
“My apologies.”
Natalie got up and left. The things going on here had her on a knife-edge. The clouds had retreated finally and the sun was harsh and bright. Sunlight on her skin was uncomfortably hot, only broken by the cage of shadows that the looming trees cast upon the hard brick. Natalie’s gaze darted left and right, scanning ahead as she hastened her pace. Something indiscernible, something in the air around her felt off, wrong, even dangerous. She pulled out her phone and dialed a cab. She chose not to return to her bike parked back the way she came. Her mind struggled to rationalize the gut feeling that returning to her motorcycle was too risky, but the same gut feeling had saved her life twice before. She knew better than to question that instinct.
Her pace hastened further. She reached into her jacket and around her hip, fingers slowly pulling at the grip of her sidearm to her. She finally got hold of the weapon, slid it around her waist to her front, and held it closely inside the jacket out of sight. Her nerves were raw. ‘Just in case’, she reasoned with herself, ‘just in case.’
I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. It definitely qualifies as one of my better pieces. And long, I know I know. 1300 words is not my standard post length. That value is usually between 200 and 500. This isn't a standard post though, this is a starter post! It gets special treatment. Its a starter post for a plot I advertise in my 1x1 master thread (which is overdue an update) called Hunted. The premise is pretty simple:
Natalie Cole is a hitman, or she was. She was born Natalia Maria Salazar, daughter of a cartel kingpin. She was trained from an unethically young age to be a lethal assassin before she was smuggled away from the cartel to America to live a normal life. Even still the cartel stumbled upon her new home in Miami years later. Natalie took to solving that problem the only way she was good at: with patience,
wit, and terrifyingly sharp aim. An FBI investigation into the cartel, her pile of cartel bodies, and tensions with local gangs all clash turning the streets of Miami into a battleground. In the wake of the cartel's fall and the FBI setting its sights on her, she fled the states.
Years later, Natalie taken refuge in Bucharest, Romania. What was left of her family is dead and she managed a spot on the FBI’s most wanted list. Everything is quiet and peaceful for her abroad until a broker - a liaison for the sophisticated criminal underworld - contacts her even in her retirement from illegal activity. A CIA operative-turned-target wants her help going on the run. Natalie living in the shadows is suddenly thrown front and center into the spotlight as a global CIA-run manhunt closes in on the agent and her with him. Whether she wants to or not, she’s been hired for one last job: protect the asset and survive.
I'm looking for my client, whoever he/she may be, who has somehow ripped off CIA files worse than Snowden. This is an 18+ (I'm 21 and people will die here) advanced RP for anyone who thinks they can impress me. Romantic involvement is possible, but at a point I will want a fade to black if we let it go there (I might not let it sometimes). You've read the first post, so show me what you'd write back! Make yourself look good, sell yourself! This is somewhat first-come/first-serve - if I review and accept someone else before you offer well you're kinda SoL - so don't hesitate.
It was cold and wet outside. A storm had come through late last night and soaked the place. Storms never bothered Natalie but storms and cold were something else. This cold bit down to her bones. Low fifties was normal for this late in March but low fifties was unpleasant to someone who used to live in Miami Beach. It almost never dipped below seventy there, but her old home wasn’t a place that was welcoming to her anymore. Here would have to do. It was far from the worst place she could be. People here didn’t know who she was. She liked it that way.
We can’t always have everything we want though. An unexpected, but familiar chime interrupted her brooding. A message ring on a cell phone ... but not from a phone that had rang in a long time. She should have left it be.Nothing good would come from answering her old work phone. From time to time she wondered why she kept the burner around. This became yet another. The thought of getting rid of it, of completely freeing herself from everything behind her, was tempting. As it chimed now though those dreams were dashed away. The past had decided to become the present.
Can you be at Herăstrău Park at 4? I have something that might interest you. –A Broker
She thought about saying no, about standing firm on her retirement. She should have, but curiosity inevitably got the better of her.
Yes, but I can promise nothing. -Nat
She couldn’t commit to taking a job. She didn’t have the gear for it, nor the desire to leave retirement ... not after everything that happened in Miami. Somehow she felt compelled to know what this was. She hadn’t even been in touch with the usual criminal circles in years. At minimum, she was curious how a broker had found her.
It was quarter to three and Herăstrău Park was all the way in the northern part of downtown. Natalie spun the dial on the small safe she kept in the coat closet. She kept passports, IDs, all of her various alias documents, and her old USP with ammo. She never carried that gun anymore. On the one hand, it had carried her through so many jobs that it was no longer a tool but an extension of herself. On the other, she had gotten careless on her last job so she was not sure the weapon wasn’t hot. It also was a powerful reminder of exactly what she had done, and why she could never go back.
That could wait for now. The past was in the past, and going into a possible trap, she wanted an old friend in her hand. Her usual concealed handgun just wasn’t good enough for this, ‘Old habits die hard’ and all. Her preference for the USP was still strong. She tenderly loaded the full magazine and set one into the chamber. The sidearm tucked comfortably into her waistband and concealed by the back of her coat, she left her apartment to seek some answers.
Herăstrău Park was an enormous place. That made it excellent for clandestine meetings … once one found who they were supposed to be meeting. There would always be a tell: an innocuous change to the surroundings just out of place enough to be noticed. A wide brick path wound through part of the park, weaving along underneath a low tangle of bare tree limbs. None of the greenery had begun to grow back yet. Shredded sunlight glowed weakly against the brick beneath her feet as the clouds above began to thin. She scanned back and forth, looking for anything that jumped out at her. At five past the hour, the supposed broker should already be somewhere waiting for her.
Some tells were more obvious than others, and this one was oddly specific. A bald man sat on a bench facing away from the path. With a button down shirt and khaki pants, he was poorly dressed for a walk in the park. On the bench opposite his back, facing the path there was a ball cap. Most people would assume it was his or lost, but Natalie knew it was her tell. A Miami Dolphins ball cap in the middle of Downtown Bucharest was no coincidence. She pushed the cap aside and sat down, facing away from the stranger, not quite back to back. To passers-by, they had nothing to do with each other.
“Nice weather today.”
Weather was a disingenuous question. That was a common code phrase to check if a person was followed. Far as Natalie knew, she was alone and the broker would be safe.
“Colder than I expected; what do you have for me?”
She didn’t dance around it. Even if standard practice among the advanced criminal underworld was to obfuscate the conversation, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be handled swiftly.
“I have a client who has an invitation for you,” the bald man answered.
That was perhaps the most damning sentence these conversations ever contained, and it was still too cryptic to prove anything legally.
“You know I’m retired. I’m out of the game.”
Natalie dismissed. Despite curiosity, she had no real intent to return to the trade. Also her romanian was still mediocre so she wanted to be done quickly.
“The prize money is very good.”
Doesn’t matter. I’m out of the game,” she repeated.
Money wouldn’t be enough to draw her back in. She didn’t need it and she certainly didn’t want back in.
“You were invited personally.”
That changed everything. The supposed client knew who she was and asked for her by name. She hadn’t done a job in years. She didn’t even have her rifles since she fled the States. The sun shining through the bound branches above her head burned through the clouds a little bit more as they talked.
“That changes nothing.”
“I see. I will inform the client his offer was declined.”
He seemed disappointed. Brokers normally didn’t care one way or the other. Things were beginning to feel ... off. Something was not right; Natalie felt as much.
“Can you tell me what the task was?”
“You know I cannot discuss details until after an offer is accepted.”
She had expected such a by-the-book answer. It was basic policy after all.
“Just this once for an old friend?”
Natalie never knew any of the brokers. “Old friend” really referenced her general notoriety within the criminal circles she used to be known in ... but that was stateside. Here she was just a tourist. The broker hesitated to break protocol, as he should.
“A client here asked for protection detail. He requested you directly.”
“I’m not a bodyguard, that’s not my problem.”
“I thought as much. Thank you for your time, madame Salazar.”
“Dios mio! Do not call me that!” she snapped, her natural Colombian accent coming through.
“My apologies.”
Natalie got up and left. The things going on here had her on a knife-edge. The clouds had retreated finally and the sun was harsh and bright. Sunlight on her skin was uncomfortably hot, only broken by the cage of shadows that the looming trees cast upon the hard brick. Natalie’s gaze darted left and right, scanning ahead as she hastened her pace. Something indiscernible, something in the air around her felt off, wrong, even dangerous. She pulled out her phone and dialed a cab. She chose not to return to her bike parked back the way she came. Her mind struggled to rationalize the gut feeling that returning to her motorcycle was too risky, but the same gut feeling had saved her life twice before. She knew better than to question that instinct.
Her pace hastened further. She reached into her jacket and around her hip, fingers slowly pulling at the grip of her sidearm to her. She finally got hold of the weapon, slid it around her waist to her front, and held it closely inside the jacket out of sight. Her nerves were raw. ‘Just in case’, she reasoned with herself, ‘just in case.’
I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. It definitely qualifies as one of my better pieces. And long, I know I know. 1300 words is not my standard post length. That value is usually between 200 and 500. This isn't a standard post though, this is a starter post! It gets special treatment. Its a starter post for a plot I advertise in my 1x1 master thread (which is overdue an update) called Hunted. The premise is pretty simple:
Natalie Cole is a hitman, or she was. She was born Natalia Maria Salazar, daughter of a cartel kingpin. She was trained from an unethically young age to be a lethal assassin before she was smuggled away from the cartel to America to live a normal life. Even still the cartel stumbled upon her new home in Miami years later. Natalie took to solving that problem the only way she was good at: with patience,
wit, and terrifyingly sharp aim. An FBI investigation into the cartel, her pile of cartel bodies, and tensions with local gangs all clash turning the streets of Miami into a battleground. In the wake of the cartel's fall and the FBI setting its sights on her, she fled the states.
Years later, Natalie taken refuge in Bucharest, Romania. What was left of her family is dead and she managed a spot on the FBI’s most wanted list. Everything is quiet and peaceful for her abroad until a broker - a liaison for the sophisticated criminal underworld - contacts her even in her retirement from illegal activity. A CIA operative-turned-target wants her help going on the run. Natalie living in the shadows is suddenly thrown front and center into the spotlight as a global CIA-run manhunt closes in on the agent and her with him. Whether she wants to or not, she’s been hired for one last job: protect the asset and survive.
I'm looking for my client, whoever he/she may be, who has somehow ripped off CIA files worse than Snowden. This is an 18+ (I'm 21 and people will die here) advanced RP for anyone who thinks they can impress me. Romantic involvement is possible, but at a point I will want a fade to black if we let it go there (I might not let it sometimes). You've read the first post, so show me what you'd write back! Make yourself look good, sell yourself! This is somewhat first-come/first-serve - if I review and accept someone else before you offer well you're kinda SoL - so don't hesitate.
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