Blissy

[High-Casual / Advanced, Mature,18+] Grim Fairy Tales 'Alice'? / Or A Dark And Twisted Wonderland? (Searching!)

09/21/16

One month later..

Once again refreshing interest with a variety of ideas. Expanded my horizons a bit as far as other plots are concerned.

Occultish Ordeals [Blissy & Micosil]

Be it visions or falsified memories idling in rapid reveal upon the decimation of Holleigh's thoughts. It was hard to say exactly what it was, but she knew only that something quite terrible had served to take her astray. Trying to recall the very moments before her world was seemingly dissolved into the enigma of silent abyss, led upon by unfriendly spirits. If there was anything she could recall, it was the house and how she had ventured into it yet again, to discover something, she had only wished to discover from the beginning, but had the ill-fated luxury of being denied the succession of achieving. The eagerness of that discovery had led her to learn of other things that she hardly sought. Spirits, vengeful spirits.. Spirits that deemed to do her harm- but had they-..?

Left to atone by the thought of her own feeble mind and body being invaded upon by the illwill of wicked spirits, served to motivate a chill down her back. It was the first real feeling she had felt with her reawakening back into life and a reality that she was only partially certain was that of her own. The feeling grew as the inaudible sounds made by near deaf ears began to chip and crackle at the former shroud of her disillusionment of possession. A possession that remained entirely unknown to her, through more conscious knowledge. The unfamiliar voices of her mind began to subside, and with their slow closure into silence came the replaced ambiance of the room she found herself remaining within.

At first she wasn't sure where she was. A distant crackling sound of a television fizzing about in the near distance, somewhere, unknown to her. Then of course the regularities of her own body adjusted back into proper position, as human instinct came to bloom. Natural response came to resolve the former confusion that left Holleigh's mind near hung in a state of limbo, where only ghastly consciences of others served to dictate her movements. With the regain of her hearing, Holleigh began to shift her head towards the source of noise that directed her pale unconscious illustrated eyes, through the absence of light around her. As she did the colour within those fickle eyes came to rejuvenate the colour of their naturally aghast sapphires hues. It was only then that she heard the light steps of someone approach, followed momentarily by a question she hardly felt ready to answer. Never mind baring far too many of her own, that had yet to slip from her disbelief struck lips.

'Who are you'? A question Holleigh felt very uncertain beckoning answer to with easy cooperation. 'Why were you in that mansion'? Another query for a subject she'd wish to share. Especially not within the company of strangers who had seemingly taken her from the presence of the same very thing, they seemed to demand answers to, upon some misunderstood logic of correlation. What had she got herself into now? The rest of what her censorious company desired answer to, became irrelevant at the instinct of misunderstood trust, growing inside her. Thus the serene limbo like mentality of her mind began to thrash and torrent at her own sense of ignorant discomfort.

With immediate response, led upon apprehensive instinct, Holleigh drew her knees to her chest in withdrawing cradle. A sign of her discomfort and evident fear among the presence of a strange who had seemingly abducted her. Enclosing herself in an almost huddle before her company would shed her feelings blatantly, to whom it was that stood before her. Uneasiness plagued her stature as the evidence of desirable withdraw, came to dictate some show of mistrust, only outlined by a sense of much more curious guilt.

“I-ii-i..-!” A stutter of an answer came slipping from dark nervous lips, before a light attempt to swallow her anxiety followed. As she spoke the peer of her eyes would turn upon that in which she spoke to. Only now just embracing the reality of the man she saw standing before her. There was a peak of concern in the consistent dread of her mood. For a moment the insightful address of those sapphires hues would only find themselves frozen on the chain worn around the other's arm, inevitably separating him from others Holleigh often found herself baring sensible conversations with. Guilt tripped from the fragile threshold that held it back, as her brows raised with notary incredulity. For a moment, she'd only just stare upon the sight before her, before moving onward to finish her rather disquieted answer to the odd one who demanded it.

“Who-o are you-u? Uh-h, why- where am I?” Holleigh's answer seemed to turn the contents of her own given question back into full cycle of anything but progressive response, shared by an almost quiet coy response of tone. “Where did you- come from..?” Another question slipped the ruse of her inevitable disquietude. A means of turning the situation away from her and back onto the one that had evidently taken her from the things she sought to find answer to. “Are you-.. From the mansion-?” A final question to rotate the circumstance of anything but dynamic conversation, wagered to exploit Holleigh's sense of intrigue. For she had no idea who it was that stood before her, nor why he did, but she did know that whoever he was, made him seem very different then most other people she had met..

Occultish Ordeals [Blissy & Micosil]

New Haven

New Haven was falling apart. Contrary to popular belief the New York cities state, was hardly in the manageable state, that whatever rich smug politicians were paid to say, was doing any justice in really upholding the truth about it. Had she shared her opinions with just about anyone else, Holleign Hanes would have no doubt that people would just think, she was one of those desensitized odd-balls, that just had the poor liberty of growing up experiencing all the worst parts of what New Haven had to offer. The funny thing was that despite the rather judgmental assumptions of others, miss Hanes had anything but displeasuring liberties, while growing up in New Haven. New Haven was a quite the interesting place, when people knew how to open their eyes..

Had she said that to just about anyone on street, they might cork a brow or shed a shiver from the near sight of the outwardly dressed dark young woman, who did anything but hide her rather unique sense of expression, or opinions. One might even consider it perfectly rational for someone of her manifest to be babbling about things that sounded like great selling novel idea's, to litter the works of some deprived writer, seeking to make more then a quick buck off a good horror-fiction seller. See none of this was ever about that. Holleigh never gave a damn about being that one chick who'd blow open the mundane secrecy of her own 'simple' society wide open. This wasn't about attention or popularity, this was simply about achieving discovery of things, that just otherwise made 'normal' people cringe or chill at the very thought of the phenomenal co-existing among the living.

For months now Holleigh had been looking for clues. Ever since she had been little she had this weird feeling. This sixth sense, that just allowed her to feel and see things that everyone else just couldn't see. The interesting thing was that Holleigh wasn't exactly looking for ghosts, or ghouls creeping under the bed, or even next door. No, her outlook was much bigger then that, given that ghosts and ghoulies were hardly the sorts of creepy crawlies they had been depicted as, in popular literature or media. Hence why finding entire societies and understanding them, felt a great deal harder. Not to mention almost entirely maddening within the ravaging of her rather consolidated inspiration. Even if she did prove the existence of the paranormal, living among humans, what was to say her almighty discovery wouldn't reach much beyond the rather revelating circumstances of those short few moments, before whatever it was she discovered made damn sure she didn't give word to anyone else. That was the one part Holleigh just hadn't quite figured out yet.

No matter. It wasn't like fear kept this young woman refrained from the rationalities of norms that other blind mortal folk of society, so easily walked on ignoring, or otherwise remaining entirely oblivious too. Where danger lurked, Holleigh often found herself heading two steps closer then she probably knew was better for her to risk. Sub conscious humanity kept her intact, while aspiration kicked harder then she could possibly imagine. Sometimes she wondered if her own instincts may very well get her killed one day. A thought that never left her, especially whenever she found herself doing something that felt oddly guilty of pestering her conscience. Yeah, breaking into old houses owned by 'vampires' was certainly going to do the trick there.

Honestly she didn't get it. Where as everyone else seemed quite happy living within the falsified norms of the reality around them, Holleigh just always got this weird sort of thrill of causing mischief around things, that most people would otherwise denounce right off, as bat-shit crazy superstition. Where as superstition caused many to reject the idea of dwelling in things that weren't meant to involve the intrusion of feeble mortal presence, Holleigh always found herself wondering why everyone just chose to remain ignorant instead. Humanity was an inevitability. Mortality a curse, in so many more ways then immortality could ever be. Or so the young mind of a naive witch thought, while she mused around the possibility of vampires living in old mansions, off the near waterfront of the city. That outta get people to believe you. What a cliche. Then again, maybe it was a start?

As cliche as it was, suspecting and adding up clues to pin point a vampiric being living no more then several blocks away from her own home, made perfect sense. Who else would want to spend time living in an old creepy mansion off the coast of the waterfront? It wasn't like the old 'Amorem' estate was winning any battles with the city. In a year the place was going to be leveled into the ground, replaced by some fancy condo's full of rich fools living over the mounds of what was potentially an elder vampires home. Then people went missing. Reports were claimed. The city made an excuse and- nothing got solved. The worst part about equating to the inevitable only reminded Holleigh that she wasn't sneaking into the 'Amorem' estate, for upholding some principle of defending man. Nope. She was just here to get the facts straight for herself, because it wasn't like anyone else around her was going to listen anyway.

Then again, she'd be lying if she warded her intentions of saving someone. Although it wasn't the future residence of condo's she felt much pity, nor even concern for. Instead, it was the fascinating creature of night that had lived in this estate, of however long it had. In some ways, she wished to be doing it a favor. If only the logic behind that made much sense, given doing a favor and basically sacrificing herself up to the potential beast inside the creature, just seemed far more likely..

"Holleigh Hanes"

---

Stepping lightly had the bases of her boots gently tapping against the dusty flooring of an abysmal window. Despite the perpetual void of darkness outlining her entry into the sunken basement window of the estate, Holleigh only saw an entrance. Being afraid of the dark was, well, it was just silly. Besides, it wasn't the dark, nor the rather aged gothic stature of the mansion that served to cause her nerves to stand on end. Instead it was only the simple fact that trespassing into the house of the dead, just seemed like a sure way to account for some kind of trouble at some point or another. Regardless Holleigh knew no restraint.

Slipping into the dusty interior of the basement floor was easy enough. Especially because she had done this before, this being her third time. Repaid visits had become somewhat of a norm when you felt you were on to something. The first time she came with hopes. The second time she came with reassurance and a flash light. The third time she came with all those things and a camera. Not just any camera, but one that was quite special. The camera itself could snap photo's of things digital camera's often projected as odd blurs, or eerie spheres of peculiar exposure. With these things, Holleigh intended to leave with more then empty hands, and a few more bruises and scratches that she got for bumping into things in the dark.

As a matter of fact, avoiding things she otherwise had made the mistake of causing a commotion with, the first and second time, had become somewhat of a natural instinct. Being less clumsy was great, especially when you were trying to keep the favors of stealth on your side. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the only true inhibitor of this mansion, in all the wrong ways. It was just a shame she hadn't come across them yet. Or was that a mercy?

Moving steadily along in the dark was easier by flashlight. Steps careful, yet quickened, within their precision through the dusk ahead. The entire first floor had almost reached full collapse. Splinters and gapes of wood existing in the penumbra of a ceiling, only just above head's reach above. The odd thing was that despite the basement being rather crammed, within ceiling height, the floor above seemed only cascading into an entire swarm of shade, that felt almost spectral in nature. For beyond a suspected vampire, Holleigh knew that there was much more danger that existed within these walls. Ghosts, phantoms, banshee's. All the same to the common ignorance of those who only choose to see such things as infernal obscurities, that bore no place within the context of the indolencies of this world.

The Amorem estate had been rumored to be haunted by those who were quick to assume superstition, but never truly understood the reality behind it. A place of unspeakable mystery, only made worse by the subject of increasing popularity, following bizarre murders that were apparently partaking place within. Each of those murders seeming more unusual then the last, despite aggravation remaining a common element of each surreal fatality. The stranger thing was that each victim had apparently been somewhere else at the time, and suddenly ended up here. The whole circumstance behind the murders seemed, expeditional, as much as it did inconsistent by poor attempts to undisclose the matter entirely. There was something much more going on inside the Amorem Estate.

Creakkk...

The soft sound of creaking wood splintered in the near distance of our naive protagonist. Her steps came to a close, attention peaking on the diversion of the sound. A sharp turn of exhilaration had Holleigh spinning on her heels at the simplest groan of aging interior. Lips dark as midnight parting to relinquish a gasp of surprise, suspense expelled from those lips and into a near peep of a gasp. Thus silence returned, only by the hesitation of her steps. At first she stood as she were. Still, ever unmoved, with drawn attention to the silly source of noise. Her flashlight peered beyond, forward into the thicket of shadow surrounding her. Nothing was ahead. No more then the disregard of all furniture dressed in layers of cobwebs and dust, that had entitled the lack of absence of visitation, for quite some time.

Holleigh's breath reconciled in light sign, tension slipping from her as she made another step. Disregarding the sound would have been easy, if only it weren't for the sound of steps, gently clapping away behind her. At the very second she tried to move a step forward from her big black boots. The sound of steps calmly approaching from behind had Holleigh freeze entirely where she stood, only just planting her boot down to the concrete floor beneath, with slow careful and desirably silent precision. As she did, the worst of her fears seemingly came to life on whim of that eerie voice of near sub-zero murmur, that dreaded upon the bareness of her ear.

“The Returnedddd-ddd..-”

A ghastly voice called to her from behind. The tone of that voice near wisping circles of hollow voice in her ear. Terror became reality. Any eager display of curiosity, or delicate attention, decimated by what she heard. “Hello-oo-o?” The nervous peep of a response stumbled over the light tremble of those lips, as Holleigh's eyes slowly diverted to inevitable presence of the vengeful behind her. “I mean no-!” A feeble protest of diplomacy sub came to fear, only moments before a chair resting somewhere in the darkness of the room, was propelled at Holleigh with imperious force. She never finished her sentence, before the sound of relentless phantasmal trashing came to life, and forced her from consciousness, from the assault..

---

Pain thrived through her skull. Light bruising on the side of her head, where a trickle of blood had been gently spilling down from the side of her ear. Holleigh's reawakening to consciousness was slow and rough. A gentle batting of her darken eyes flushed against the thick of darkness around her. Whispering of ghastly words in her ear, still lingering throughout her conscience like an endless torment of invasion. She could hear- She could their voices- in her head! They were all around her! The desire to scream took over her, as the knowledge of knowing where she was, became entirely unimportant. Though she willed to rile in fear and panic, Holleigh's lips never moved. Instead she only just managed to collect herself with slow and near hollow address, as her still eyes peered into the unimaginable darkness around her. As she rose she heard the sound of old springs squeak beneath her curling form. Where was she- why couldn't she? She hardly felt in control..

Occultish Ordeals [Blissy & Micosil]

Ignore.

[High-Casual / Advanced, Mature,18+] Grim Fairy Tales 'Alice'? / Or A Dark And Twisted Wonderland? (Searching!)

08/21/16

Games all full. Sorry folks! :x

[High-Casual / Advanced, Mature,18+] Grim Fairy Tales 'Alice'? / Or A Dark And Twisted Wonderland? (Searching!)

08/19/16

Added: Several new plots & Reworked searches. Now on a vampire story binge! :[

Removed: Old DC Fandom cravings.

Open to taking on new writing partners!

[18+] "The Harlequin Blues" (Blissy & Roosan)

Things seemed to be going along swimmingly, or at least decently enough that Harley felt at least a bit dignified with the situation. Unlike her Nightwing dressed protege, Harley didn't often spend most of her long nights fighting off groups, or sea's of endless goons. As a matter of fact, Quinn was usually the one dictating those goons to attack people dressed in very Nightwing-esc attire, by the decree of some much more cynical individual. In some ways it almost felt ironic to be here, doing this. Harley Quinn certainly had her fair share of complications when it came to the effect of clown dressed hooligans, but none of those hindrances had been quite the physical sort that she had only recently found herself reminded of.

After quite literally pitching Nightwing one of the many problems in the room to address, Harley seemed to almost entirely disappear beneath the crowd that surrounded her. Like taking a dip in the lake, Harley Quinn disappeared in a body of Joker faced felons who had every intention of keeping her below surface, drowning her in substance of her own former guilty affiliation with them. Harley's body fell to the floor in some brief impatient huff of her own erupting impatience. Laying on her back on the floor for a moment, she'd peer up to the tiny space of light she could still see.

“Uggggh!” It was an angered sort of irk, as opposed to one of distress or trouble, but that didn't dismiss the idea that Harley found herself smack damp in the middle of quite the crowded ordeal. She knew that without help she was running out of room to work with, when it came to being overwhelmed by the many who sought to contain her. They wouldn't kill her.. Joka would explode.. Harley considered the option of knowing that none of these thugs could really do to much to her, other then rough her up real good. But killing her- He'd never-! She knew him too good for that by now!

“Dun TOUCH ME! Ya grimy grabba!” The anger in her voice squeaked out beyond the rowdy noises of the brawl that raged on around her. Stern assertion coated that squeaky tone of demand, before Harley rammed her foot into one of the Joker thugs balls. Kicking that particular clown faced dimwit back gave her just another inch of breathing room. It was enough for her to flip herself up in a snappy acrobatic flip, that took her from her backside and back to standing on both feet. Once there she swung her bat like in hard fanning motion in front of her, effectively hitting several targets all at once with the hard carefree swing of the steel bat, only to watch the henchmen collapse in front of her like living bowling pins. “Ouwa! Homerun! That's gonna hurt when ya wake up. HAHA!”

The delighted mockery of her tone broke into a light gasp that had her grabbed at both sides of her body. Entrapped by the rest of Joker thugs around her, they tried to keep Harley grappled from multiple directions. She struggled, squirmed to no end, stomped on a foot or two and got a set of those hands to at least slip away, but it wasn't enough. She needed more help. “WHATCA- DAMNIT-! ERRRGH-!” The squeaky octave of her voice peeped at new heights as her anger built steamed to conclusive boil like a kettle reaching some eruption high pitched explosion. Plenty of people had seen Harley upset before, but few had lived to remember what she could get like when she totally lost it. Never mind having a reason to that wasn't Joker related at all. Joker always repressed the best of her anyway.

Most under estimated the delicacy of her shape. The fragility of more common passive aggressive nature that often only had her trying to find the best way to fix a problem, with some weird joke or crude charade that seemed to scream Joker in so many unoriginal and obvious manipulated ways. Only this time, she wasn't doing it for him, she was doing all this for herself, and that meant something very important to her. This anger in the corky clown princess of crime was a force of something else entirely. Something even some of her oldest enemies have never quite been exposed too.

Somehow she broke through the grip, holding her in constraint. It was like some incredible fit of strength that had her near lost in the aggressive adrenaline by the means of her escape. Harley was about to return her favor for being groped, grappled and thrown around by, just about anything Joker related. Once she broke free she went wild with superb aggression that had her move in a way no one had ever seen. Mayhem consumed her as Harley put that essence of galvanized adrenaline to work.

Ding!

The end of her bat swung with brutal force into the chest of one of the Joker thugs, who was brave enough to test the degree and relentlessness of that anger. When the bat hit him in the chest, she didn't just strike him, bop him with the fusible end of the bat, she straight knocked him half way across the room with the swing, almost in the way a baseball might be struck away by the power of that string. The surreal show of strength caused several other Joker thugs surrounding her to falter and reconsider the sensibility behind their approach. “Did you see that- she just-!” The nervous disbelieving raving of another thug tried to warn the inevitability, that came faster then he was ready to embrace. Harley's form spun into a snappish cartwheel that had legs straddled around the spokesperson who tried to warn the others. Legs entwined around his neck, she'd use the straddle of her legs to flip the man almost twice her size over and into the floor face first, forcing him to take a huge chop out of the concrete.

“Somebody here BETTA start talkin about where JOKA is, or I'm gonna straight break every clown trap jaw in this ROOM! Just wait till they see the line up tomorrow at the local dentist!”

[High-Casual / Advanced, Mature,18+] Grim Fairy Tales 'Alice'? / Or A Dark And Twisted Wonderland? (Searching!)

Once again looking for one or two new writing partners!

[18+] "The Harlequin Blues" (Blissy & Roosan)

The funny thing about Harley's plan was that she knew she really only had half of one actually thought out. While she had zero doubt that she'd be able to make a distraction for Nightwing to play his part, the conditions of what would happen to her in the process were a bit up the air. Doing what she did was risky, but not without anything immediate anyway. Or so she thought. If anyone knew Joker well it was Harley Quinn and Harley knew that her good ole 'Puddin' wouldn't be the sort to just shun a blind eye to her. He betta nota anyway! He was deserving of a hell of a lot more then just a good rant for her!

Harleys agitation began to cause her to steam the more she thought about how her poor choices had wind her up here, now, doing this and how that made her end up. It couldn't be that bad.. Right? This is insane, you should have trusted him- But I DID! Harley's brief mental dispute with her past and present self served to hinder her focus from the task at hand. While the clown bruisers on the other side of the door kept hammering away and breaching the only defence between her and them. Of course it didn't help that she had to get all trigger happy and waste the whole magazine on the door, much earlier then she wanted too. Whateva! It wasn't like Bird-brain was gonna let her keep the gun anyway! The sound of an expired magazine of ammo clicked out a loud to indicate her vulnerability, all while bringing down that really piped thrill of adrenaline that seemed to also expire alongside the count of her ammunition.

“What's gonna stop me from snapping you in half now?!” A rowdy very unfriendly voice called out to her in some shallow attempt to try and rattle her confidence. Harley only found herself grinning at the comment as the door came crashing down a second later. “THIS! Bottom's up dumbass!” She warned him before she threw the empty gun at his big ole nose, but of course he didn't take the hint. A good throw and anything but yielding reaction caused Harley to hit the mouthy clown straight in the face. Lucky for her, he was one of the only ones of the group that didn't have his face concealed by a grinning clowny mask. “Look atcha, all barging in here.. Dun ya have any MANNERS!? I locked the door for a reason! GET OUTTA MY BOOTH!” Harley's final sarcastic comment sung out to a rather inevitable end that she knew would wind her up in the grip of Joker's thugs.

One came closer grabbing for her, the rest pointing their guns up in her face. She of course didn't let that discourage her as the grapple of the man reaching for her only made her shift to the side in a quick evasive maneuver. Pinned up against the back wall in the tiny box of a booth, Harley's glare arched in testy inimical response before she'd prop both of her hands up on a small bar protruding from the wall behind her. Swinging her feet up in a quick motion she slammed her boots into the joker thugs face that had made the mistake of trying to rampage in and grapple her. “Na-UH! Keep ya hands to ya self idiot! I don't need your stupid fondlin me!” A light snicker formulated to conclude her response before the presence of the Joker thugs entrapped her where she stood..

---

In some ways Harley felt obligated to struggle, squirm and defy every attempt that lead to the Joker thugs taking her from the room and tying her to an oddly placed pool in the center, by the old screen in the first theater. Finding herself in a perilous situation was inevitable by this point, but it wasn't like the terms of her distress should last for too long, so long as Nightwing was doing his part. Being brought to the centre of the room to have her hands bound behind her back and bound to the pole behind her only made her cringe at the consideration of Nightwing being unpunctual and unfashionably later. She had seen him do all this before.. so he better not be screwing around..! Now wasn't the time to screw up..! Somehow she doubted he would, even if finding herself bound to a pole and surrounded by very unfriendly assets of Joker's gang sort of had her contemplating her trust in the former boy wonder.

The tension around her wrists intensified as her captor tied the final knot. “Bet it sucks to kno that none of ya's can do anythin since Joka dun even know im alive yet HUH?! You wouldn't lie to that old CLOWN, ya kno what'll happen if he finds out ya let me slip the gun right? Actually did the wrong thing? You's all remember what that entails..!” Even in meager peril Harley got a kick out of playing mind games with the handful of the heavily armed dimwits in front of her. While they certainly had the brawn for the operation down, Harley never doubt for a second that brains would always be in her favour, especially with these particular guys. “Shut up Harley! Once we contact Joker your going to be sorry you ever got the idea of showing back up here alive.” Her captor finished with the ropes moving away with the threat and turning to stare at her. Harley wasn't shaken nor discouraged by the rather gruff ill-will of the armed Joker thug in front of her, in fact, she were actually getting a pretty good kick out of all of this so far. Just knowing what was about to happen next felt utterly climactic.

“Hmm.. NAW.. I dun think I will, ya wanna kno why BOZA? Cuz I kno somethin ya don't know and the longer ya stand here and try to antagonize me the more I realize how fun it is gonna be knock ya TEETH OUT!” Excitement filled her expression as her gaze locked on to the angry face belonging to the unfortunate idiot who had the luxury of eating the gun she threw earlier, leaving a rather funny looking red mark across the full size of the bigger thug's almost perfectly egg shaped head. “That look does ya justice for ya pea brain. Though not nearly enough justice.. guess you're gonna have to wait and see what else ima do to ya..!” She teased those crimson lips of hers turned into a wild devious sneer.

[18+] "The Terms & Endearment Of A Vigilante" (Blissy & Squiggle)

The near mad exasperated warning sung out from her lips like vocalized poison serving to taint and boil the ears of those that heard it's particular call. For where RiotBliss seemed to support the conquered submission of her own distressed state, she knew that the act making herself seem so fatigued hardly felt easy for her to do. It was all part of the act. The act that would lead a certain Skarlet Avenger to come and address the circumstance of her own dramatized hapless distress. That was part of the game of course and making sure the game felt anything but far from real was her only intention, even if that really stirred to tempt her tolerance for the certain acting qualities of the anything but underplaying henchmen in front of her.

A light struggle ensued at her wrists, bound as they were, though not as tight as they should be, forced Phoebe to reconsider just how much release she'd need to obtain before being able to spring free when the time came. The idea of being held captive was always anything but encouraging to her, even if the circumstances of that particular captivity were far more role-played then actually present. RiotBliss just didn't like being trussed up or contained to any constricting degree. A free spirit in need of attention, a destroyer in need of making a mess, freedom was a necessity of her oh so cynically twisted character. She hardly even knew much else but the name of this mysterious vigilante that had been parading around Oldtown and cleaning up where she was only making a mess and already she found almost captivated by the very presence of this other woman in all her so called heroic selfless accordance to trying to smother the flame set on the town, that felt set much too far ablaze, to be extinguished. Where Skarlet Avenger saw hope, RiotBliss saw despair only wrapped up in the eerie façade of a wild shadowy smile and her messy attempts to cling to some much less underlying moral complication.

“Im not going to ask you again-! You think this is funny?” The front man who bore the honour of playing into this whole little charade set out for Skarlet Avenger, dared to further push the fragile circumstances of his unspoken ability to play his part in her little game. He had already done enough, already gone well and beyond what she required of him. Phoebe let the dramatized heave of her fatigue project further at the hanging of her head downward only to let the messy blonde strands of her pigtail managed hair to almost touch the meshy coated and partially torn surface of her breast. Lips parting in some stellar act of manifesting some desolated submissive, the tremble of her words broke and slipped in further announcement of her clever declaration to begging for some saviour that she knew was only several inches away. Parting those shaking pink moulds of hysteric nerve induced wonder, she'd gasp at the mention of trying to say one thing, only to have her words force a small giggle from her lips to the conditions that saw one man pulled into the darkness surrounding them, from the corner of her wandering eye.

“She's heree-e..” The announcement sung out into the absent silence of the room. Though Skarlet Avenger was prestige in her efforts of taking down the first armed obstruction, Phoebe knew letting her have her the luxury of silently taking down each one of the men positioned around the room without any form of challenge, would hardly prove to win her any fair status among the judgement of her forth coming opponent. No. Letting Skarlet Avenger take the floor without resistance wasn't ethical in symbolizing what made her such a worthy threat to be called here in the first place. If anything, this bold heroine needed to be tested beyond the circumstance of her strengths, just as she had been with the conditions of maintaining her own sanity that came with being some unsung hero of Oldtown.

The light threat ushered from the broken whimper of her lips caused the front man to turn on his heels, to heed warning in the decree. Turning, he saw only three men, the fourth missing from the arrangement. The shady point-man of operation scowled, the hook of that scowl trying to alter the brief cringe that stung through his body. “Where's Nick?!” He questioned, only to have the near whispering cackle of RiotBliss's own meager amusement sing and out and distract him from further pressing the matter of the one missing person. If RiotBliss wanted Skarlet Avegener dead, she could have assured that by now. No, this was about making her struggle, squirm and doubt herself.. and everything selfless thing that she did.. “You really need to stop laughing.. It's getting on my fucking nerves!” He threatened, before Skarlet Avenger took down another and then the final victim at just the opportune moment to use the nervous alarm of the two final goons, to her precarious advantage. That left one.

The brief shaking of dismal decline gestured from where she sat bound to the chair before she'd slowly raise her chin and let the lose strands of her dirty golden hair cascade over the cryptic exhilaration of her expression. “Oh youu-u.. I told youu-u.. not to let herr-r take you all outt.. She's behind you-u now-w..!” A brief guffaw sung into place at the chilly warning of RiotBliss's perilous address? Oh was it peril at all?

The final goon turned at the rampaging steps of an adrenaline fuelled Skarlet Avenger before he'd turn to have his hand smashed against the metal of the pipe. There was a struggle, a feud, the two serving to frantically handle one another until Skarlet Avenger discontinued the commotion with a belligerent finishing move that left the final conflict in an unconsciously crude state. Meanwhile Phoebe sat still in her place of captivity, the deep joyful insane hues of her blue eyes finding themselves utterly enamoured in devious imaginative wonder of the dark black clad heroine in front of her, all while she watched her in childish wonder of the reality taking place in front of her.

With a small fuss the fight concluded. Skarlet Avenger had won and stepped away from the near humiliated and battered unconscious stature of her former opposition. Skarlet Avenger came closer, lips pursed, attention turned entirely to the degree of her own hapless charade as she'd step forward and begin to untie her from the chair. That's when the situation took a wild turn..

At the moment of feeling her slender wrists unbound, the former ties among them slipping away, RiotBliss left the dependence act of a victim behind her. In the spurt of a second she was up, her legs swinging out from their rest hanging over the chair as she'd force her hands to the top of chair that previously kept her bound. With precise amazing momentum she'd flip herself up and over Skarlet Avenger, letting a single boot of hers kick the heroine in the spine and into the chair with cheap withdrawing ascend that would send her away from the heroine and express her certain courtesy for being freed by the naive heroine.

Catching herself perfectly on two legs she'd raise both arms in elated theatrical accomplishment.

“HAAA!” A real jeer of excitement called out in wild enthusiastic announcement before she'd sweep a single sheet off a dusty crate and easily pull out sub-machine gun and point it across the room at Skarlet Avenger. Eyes drawn carefully to her, all the curious elevated wonder motivating that address forward, RiotBliss would start to walk around the her prey in slow pace and muse aloud at the devious pondering of what she should do next.

“Sooo.. Skarlet Avengerr-r is it? Neat namee..e What's the story? I think mines a bit better-r though.. Tee hee..” She'd state, showing no fear in really throwing her menacing intrusiveness forward as she tried to become a bit more acquainted with Skarlet Avenger under the terms of holding her under gun point, all while somehow insulting her at the same time.