DIR Return Create A Forum - Home
---------------------------------------------------------
HTML https://anywherecafe.createaforum.com
---------------------------------------------------------
*****************************************************
DIR Return to: RP Threads
*****************************************************
#Post#: 865--------------------------------------------------
Bad Company
By: calliamity Date: January 29, 2025, 8:09 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Clara Groves
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AClDOVvXIyNBIrirOsyQwbWX2l07LWgEWZfKHCT1Tn0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]Everybody in this party's fuckin' fake - and so am I,
but I just got here so I gotta show some face.[/center]
[center]Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice[/center]
[float=right max=45%]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/HCJzm2X.png[/float]
[hr]
[BR]
While the other girls are off hunting, Clara's left dealing with
the business of preparing a makeshift safehouse with practically
no notice. Much of the legwork is fobbed off on Sebastian while
she sips bagged blood from a highball glass and makes calls on
her big red Bakelite telephone with the antiquated rotary dial.
It gives her a sense of purpose every time she selects a number;
touch screens could never provide this kind of tactile
satisfaction.[BR][BR]Brighton, as she'd guessed, couldn't spare
anyone at such short notice, not with a 'no questions' rider.
But the Sheriff does give her a lead on someone else, someone
new in town who'd just met with the Prince, and been granted
shelter within the city. It would have to do.[BR][BR]She
promises Brighton a refurbished AS Val in exchange for her
setting up a meeting with the Brujah. Her ghoul's back just in
time to see her stepping out of the front door with a pair of
suitcases. He pops the trunk and lets her do the loading, then
she gets in the passenger seat and fills him in. With dawn a few
hours away yet, they're on a timetable but it isn't
tight.[BR][BR]The meeting's set at a roadhouse because, in a
rush, playing to stereotypes is at least as good as guessing
randomly. Sebastian drops her off and she walks past a row of
bikes, in her jeans and a faded blue denim button-up that barely
conceals a kevlar vest beneath. Her Balenciaga pinstripe duster
does not fit in as well as the rest of her outfit, but she won't
be here for long. And anyway, she needs to stand out, at least a
little bit, for her potential new ally to be able to find
her.[BR][BR]She heads to the bar and orders a scotch on the
rocks.
#Post#: 866--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: Mother_Hydra Date: January 29, 2025, 8:29 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Sergine “Serge” Carlock
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zx7znWsuHUgka3eB-B7hqAoFLAUOkxI6xpa0kLJcrr0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]This little war of mine.[/center]
[center][I]Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes| Strength 4 :
Viscous | New Arrival | Rep [/center]
[float=right
max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/72c76bf3-8d50-4d17-bd8a-f618f976c7b9.jpg?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=image][/img][/float]
[hr]
Its funny how things work sometimes, you arrive, you introduce
yourself, and then as so often happens to the new blood they are
farmed out almost immediately. Sergine had been sitting in their
car, scrolling through options for a new haven when the call
came through. She'd been hesitant for a moment, but that
sensation never translated to the call, and after a brief
conversation the meeting was set.
The location is...interesting, a roadhouse was a fine place to
find a meal, but given her current attire the Brujah might have
picked an alternative venue but such was the way of things. He
rolled into the place driving a matt black Lincoln Continental,
its chassis gliding smoothly into the parking space.
When the Brujah exits the vehicle, she's still wearing her
attire from the Elysium, a well appointed black suit, with a
black button down shirt and an even blacker tie. It is a
masterclass in severity, but they seem to wear it well, the
outfit fitting with his angular features and his short, no
longer controlled hair that was dark brown.
They moved smoothly into the space, pale grey eyes surveying the
space for just a second as they proceeded down the line of
booths, before pausing, their features turning slowly about the
space, like radar tracking a target. In this attire they are
particularly androgynous, but one thing that stood out about
them above all else drew the most stares.
Sergine was covered in scars, and they were varied and different
in size, shape, and intensity. They might well have been
attractive once, but now to the majority of the population they
were a curiosity at best, and a cautionary tale to be avoided at
worst. She didn't seem to be bothered by the stares however as
she seemed to lock onto Clara, and slid up to the bar beside
her.
"Evening." Her voice is husky and dry, like someone who smoked
before unlife claimed them, or perhaps their vocal chords were
scarred as well.
He'd look to the bartender then, who was now staring at them
like they'd never seen a person before in their life and with a
level gaze said. "Beer, leave the cap on."
#Post#: 868--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: calliamity Date: January 29, 2025, 8:52 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Clara Groves
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AClDOVvXIyNBIrirOsyQwbWX2l07LWgEWZfKHCT1Tn0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]Everybody in this party's fuckin' fake - and so am I,
but I just got here so I gotta show some face.[/center]
[center]Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice[/center]
[float=right max=45%]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/HCJzm2X.png[/float]
[hr]
[BR]
At first she's not sure who that is, coming up next to her like
that. Many men would be so presumptuous, and, sight unseen, she
can tell they're big. She takes her sweet time looking over,
glass in hand, midway to her mouth to pretend to drink its
chilled amber contents. She sees the suit, unexpected. Maybe
she'd rolled badly, but alea iacta est. The weird energy of this
place, something like her long-ago but different in an uncanny
way, messes with her Sight and she can't get a good read. Her
bright eyes turn upward to the scarred face.[BR][BR]"Yeah," she
replies, pushing the rim of her glass to pressed-together lips.
She can almost sort of taste the liquor. Caine forbid she
actually sip any of it though. "Are you here for the job?" The
gunslinger isn't certain, she's fishing a little bit. Trap or
treasure? Wounds like that make sense but also a lot of people
she would never wanna run into are marked like that too. People,
and other things.[BR][BR]Damn her eyes.[BR][BR]It's revolting
but it's art too, vulgar art. Hard not to stare. The fascination
is there but it's mixed with mild disgust. Maybe that's the
point of the work. Like a Jackson Pollock. She'd seen worse in
her time, met a man whose face had been half eaten off by
diseases that didn't even exist anymore so far as she knew. But
that was before the blood had made her a critic. And critical.
#Post#: 869--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: Mother_Hydra Date: January 29, 2025, 9:05 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Sergine “Serge” Carlock
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zx7znWsuHUgka3eB-B7hqAoFLAUOkxI6xpa0kLJcrr0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]This little war of mine.[/center]
[center][I]Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes| Strength 4 :
Viscous| New Arrival| Rep [/center]
[float=right
max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/72c76bf3-8d50-4d17-bd8a-f618f976c7b9.jpg?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=image][/img][/float]
[hr]
Sergine moved slow in such instances, taking her time to assess
the situation, to consider those in the space and at play. She'd
not precisely known that her contact was this woman, but live
long enough and you knew what to look for, knew who to seek.
They'd stepped up and in doing so they were rewarded.
When the beer is slid across the table physical money was left
in its wake, the cold bottle was taken in hand, held before them
and between the two predators as she turned her body ever so
slightly in the direction of the woman so that their eyes might
meet. Her eyes were likely the one beautiful feature left on her
face, those cool grey eyes sharp, clear, and perhaps even a
little deep.
"You called, so I'm here." He said as he considered the beer in
his hand before reaching up with his free one and closing it
over the bottle cap and cracked it open with their bare hands.
They'd toss the cap onto the bar then finally lay an arm upon
the wooden counter as their gaze shifted, tracking the room once
again.
"Would you like to discuss it here, or somewhere with more
privacy?" Straight to the point it seems, curt, efficient.
#Post#: 871--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: calliamity Date: January 29, 2025, 9:20 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Clara Groves
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AClDOVvXIyNBIrirOsyQwbWX2l07LWgEWZfKHCT1Tn0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]Everybody in this party's fuckin' fake - and so am I,
but I just got here so I gotta show some face.[/center]
[center]Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice[/center]
[float=right max=45%]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/HCJzm2X.png[/float]
[hr]
[BR]
The eyes are interesting, they set the rest of Sergine's face
off. Like a sunrise painting an otherwise unremarkable crag or
scraggly mountain range. She blinks her eyes purposefully and
shakes her head, like she can somehow ward off the superficial
distractions inherent to her unnature. "We make a strange pair,"
she notes dully, casting a glance to her side. It makes the
right side of her head catch the light off the back of the bar
in such a way as to reveal the fact that she, for some
godforsaken reason, has a patch of glitter mashed into her
otherwise meticulous golden locks.[BR][BR]"Yeah, we should go."
She sets the glass down on the bar and makes her way outside. A
rangy boy with too few teeth and less of a chin steps in front
of her to get her to stop so he can talk to her but she
literally hisses, like a cat, and he takes a step back. She
steps under his outstretched arm and maneuvers herself around a
couple other such encounters preemptively and with breathtaking
grace before she's out on the pavement, standing beside a row of
choppers, her no-breath making none little puffs of fog because
she's dead and she doesn't breathe. Anyways, this is Tampa, not
Fargo.
#Post#: 873--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: Mother_Hydra Date: January 29, 2025, 9:43 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Sergine “Serge” Carlock
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zx7znWsuHUgka3eB-B7hqAoFLAUOkxI6xpa0kLJcrr0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]This little war of mine.[/center]
[center][I]Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes| Strength 4 :
Viscous| New Arrival| Rep [/center]
[float=right
max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/72c76bf3-8d50-4d17-bd8a-f618f976c7b9.jpg?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=image][/img][/float]
[hr]
"We have yet to determine that." The Brujah offers simply in
regards to their pairing, after all, she had agreed to a
meeting, and perhaps to a job, but he had yet to agree to
anything, yet to give any assent.
They were headed out, and Serge was more than happy to do so.
They didn't care for such spaces when they weren't looking for a
meal, and even though she had not yet fed that night, business
came before pleasure. She followed in Clara's wake, her six foot
one frame almost looming over the smaller woman even as she
remained standing straight and tall.
He watched with a hint of amusement in those grey eyes as Clara
dodged, ducked and hissed her way through the many kine who
wished to parlay with her, who wished a fraction of her time.
Funny how they always flocked to those who would predate upon
them, at least in some of their cases. Sergine often had to find
alternative means of feeding...not that they minded.
When they stepped out into the cool evening air Sergine tossed
the beer they'd walked out with into a garbage bin without a
second thought. She'd gesture across the lot to Lincoln
Continental that lay low in the dark, like a predator stalking
the outer light of some primeval campfire. "We can talk in my
car, or yours, if you brought one." The scarred woman clearly
had no concern eitherway. "However mine is....specifically
fitted to keep outsiders from listening in."
She'd wait then, watching Clara, they still didn't even have
each others names, but that suited Serge just fine until they
were inside a vehicle.
#Post#: 874--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: calliamity Date: January 29, 2025, 9:58 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Clara Groves
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AClDOVvXIyNBIrirOsyQwbWX2l07LWgEWZfKHCT1Tn0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]Everybody in this party's fuckin' fake - and so am I,
but I just got here so I gotta show some face.[/center]
[center]Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice[/center]
[float=right max=45%]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/HCJzm2X.png[/float]
[hr]
[BR]
She shakes out her hands, like she'd put them into a vat of
slime. Just being in there... Maybe she's too good for her past
now. And maybe that's a shame. The kind of errant, depressive
musings an immortal has. Once Serge joins her, she gives them
another looking over and then nods. She's strapped, she can deal
with a mistake. And anyway, Sebastian is getting things ready at
the hotel. "Let's take your car." She's not expecting anything
much from the much-taller individual.[BR][BR]There are a few
patrons out here smoking, and they don't need to hear what she
has to say. Even without saying anything Masquerade-breaking,
she's hiring a mercenary after all - the issue is purely
legality, and she's a, to all appearances, legitimate
businesswoman with all of her papers in order. And whether or
not she's selling Irish guns to the Russian mob or any other
horrible, defamatory rumor one might toss her way, well, prove
it, cop. She knows how to keep her mouth shut, and she'd learned
that lesson even before she'd died at age 20.[BR][BR]Her elbow
crooks, like a little handle, offered to Serge subtly. Let them
think they're leaving here for other reasons. Obvious ones.
She's too pretty for this joint, and Serge is too well-dressed
but otherwise fits right in. Yeah, sure, they probably met on
Tindr.[BR][BR]Leaving aside, entirely, that Clara doesn't even
know what that is.
#Post#: 876--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: Mother_Hydra Date: January 29, 2025, 10:14 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Sergine “Serge” Carlock
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zx7znWsuHUgka3eB-B7hqAoFLAUOkxI6xpa0kLJcrr0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]This little war of mine.[/center]
[center][I]Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes| Strength 4 :
Viscous| New Arrival| Rep [/center]
[float=right
max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/72c76bf3-8d50-4d17-bd8a-f618f976c7b9.jpg?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=image][/img][/float]
[hr]
A vampires past defined them, molded them into the creature they
were, and in many cases they became locked in their past or at
least the point in which they were ushered into their unlife.
That said it seems that neither of them were so old that they
were dressed in period clothing, or speaking in a dialect or
accent that had not been heard in centuries.
Speaking of accents, Clara might well here a twinge of an accent
in her companions voice, it was hard to place...likely something
in the romantics, but it was clear that the Brujah had gone to
great lengths to smooth it out, to neutralize their voice so
that it could from almost anywhere...a good tactic for a
mercenary.
The crooked arm was considered for a beat, before falling in
line with the idea Serge took it, circling their own arm into
Clara's. He would lead her then, moving towards the wide vehicle
and with their free hand they would unlock it with a FOB. Serge
would lead Clara to the passenger's side door, smoothly pulling
it open to let the woman slide down into the low slung vehicle
before she would seal the door behind her.
Once inside, Clara would understand what Serge had meant, here
in plush, almost den like interior of the vehicle she could hear
little of the outside world, the sound proofing of the vehicle
keeping the space beyond at bay. The interior of the car was
well appointed, clean, and clearly maintained well. You couldn't
say it was too an overly meticulous degree...but if one had to
pick a word to describe it would be...professional.
It would only take a few moments for the other door to open, and
the scarred merc slid into the vehicle as well, the buttons on
their jacket now undone, not that such an act revealed much with
that outfit.
When the door was closed and the outside world sealed away Serge
would take a brief pause, before turning to look Clara in the
eyes once more.
"Serge Carlock." A name, or perhaps an introduction. "What can I
do for you miss?" One scarred brow rose then, a clear indication
of expectation. This was Clara's time, sell the gig.
Serge was waiting.
#Post#: 877--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: calliamity Date: January 29, 2025, 10:25 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Clara Groves
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AClDOVvXIyNBIrirOsyQwbWX2l07LWgEWZfKHCT1Tn0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]Everybody in this party's fuckin' fake - and so am I,
but I just got here so I gotta show some face.[/center]
[center]Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice[/center]
[float=right max=45%]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/HCJzm2X.png[/float]
[hr]
[BR]
Now's not the time to test Serge's physical strength, but Clara
can't help wondering about how much control she'd given up just
by allowing her arm to be seized thusly. Gamely following along,
all part of the charade, at least her gun-hand's free. She
offers a terse smile as the door's opened for her. It's a
chivalrous gesture and yes, they're playing pretend, but she's
always hated that. Having doors opened for her. Not even
Sebastian does that anymore. She makes her own
openings.[BR][BR]But pride is easy enough to swallow, and then
she's in the dark cocoon of a vehicle that is far nicer than
she'd have imagined. A far cry from some old bucket, it's
clearly taken care of, made just so like one of her guns. Like
one of her outfits. It's a level of care she can appreciate. Not
perfect, but why should it be? It's what it needs to be. She
looks around and doesn't try to hide that she's doing that. "I
can tell you have an appropriate level of self-respect, so I
won't waste your time."[BR][BR]Her eyes meet the Brujah's, and
the browsing stops. "I've been warned of a possible danger to my
allies. My coterie ain't fighters, so we're staying together in
one location where we can exercise complete control. I'd like
you to help with security, should things go wrongly."
#Post#: 878--------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Company
By: Mother_Hydra Date: January 29, 2025, 10:40 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Sergine “Serge” Carlock
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zx7znWsuHUgka3eB-B7hqAoFLAUOkxI6xpa0kLJcrr0/edit?usp=sharing[/center]
[center]This little war of mine.[/center]
[center][I]Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes| Strength 4 :
Viscous| New Arrival| Rep [/center]
[float=right
max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/72c76bf3-8d50-4d17-bd8a-f618f976c7b9.jpg?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=image][/img][/float]
[hr]
Clara takes time to look around, and there are many sights to be
seen inside this space. Beyond the finely appointed interior,
she would note a distinct lack of a digital display, so many
vehicles in these nights had them, giant gaudy screens that
dominated the front dash of most cars, intended to make the
vehicles more futuristic, more tech savy. This vehicle had none
of these things, it wasn't that the car was old enough that they
couldnt be added, but there is a distinct, intentional lack.
Instead, the front console has a great many buttons, as well as
a chunky device that looks very much like a police scanner.
In the console that sat between the seats was another unexpected
addition, a holster sat there, buried in the structure of the
vehicle itself, within this bracket lay a matt black pistol,
positioned just so for easy draw from the drivers seat. Further
back, another rack braced itself between the two seats, this one
larger, and likely meant for something equaling its size, this
rack however stood empty at the moment.
Serge's features remain passive for the most part as Clara
offers her explanation for contacting them, the only part of the
individuals face that moved in this moment were the eyes. A slow
nod would follow the description and Serge would sit back in the
seat, pressing into the leather as they considered it.
"Help? Or lead?" She inquired then, her gaze slowly shifting
back to Clara with intent. "The difference matters." She sniffed
a bit then, an oddly living gesture before she went on.
"What can you tell me about the location? What sort of defenses
do you already have, and what would you like to have?"
*****************************************************
DIR Next Page