-:When the Gun Fires:- A Crime Roll Play :- Open&Accepting!!

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

FBI Transmission to Manhattan, New York, 3070:

~ Local news paper article written by Evangeline McKenzie, age 19, April 14th 3064 ~

“Earlier this morning a man dressed in a long trench coat walked into the middle of the west-side mall and threatened to kill himself and everyone else in the vicinity. His second threat was that with his coming meant a new” reign of terror”, if he did not get what he wanted, although he never stated exactly what that was, Manhattan – and soon the rest of the world – would be merely pawns to his leader’s plan. As any good employ would do at that time one manager hit the emergency alarm, immediately contacting the local police department. Despite that employee’s honorable attempt to save everyone’s lives the entire population in the store, including the mentally unstable man, and the police preparing to enter the building were killed when the man detonated a bomb strapped to his mid-drift.

A terrible loss to a close community hit home hard but now questions, more than sorrow, come to the foreground. What was it that that young man, so insane, wanted so badly that he had to die for it? More importantly, who is his so-called “leader” and what is this so-called plan?”

The years following April 14th, 3064 were terrifying, blood filled years. For a generation coming into their own in the world it was a scary thought to walk home alone, rather more be on your own in the world. Your parents, who at once should have been the ones that could keep you safest, were now struggling to keep killers from breaking in at night. Sleeping with the light on was just as dangerous as sleeping with it off and if you were smart, no doors or windows in your house were ever opened or unlocked and neither were the curtains.

Despite these and many other safety precautions, deaths, robberies and other “normal” criminal acts were everyday play. At first Manhattan was the only one but slowly it spread until almost the entirity of the New York state was covered in the same terror. The source of the problem still obviously rests in Manhattan as the amount of crime there sky-rockets above all other towns.

Now, the year is 3070. If you even mention the name Rhys Damen, people shiver, you see, he is the “leader” the suicide bomber mentioned. A swave businessman with an amazing criminal record as well as a knack for getting out of the trouble he causes. He owns one of the biggest technological companies in the world and has never once been in jail for more than three weeks - magically his cases are always dropped.

From what the FBI director, a special team and the Manhattan police department have figured out he is one of the prime suspects to be the source of this issue – the illusive man behind everything. His popularity gives him an advantage of an army of killers, drug dealers and so on, leaving him without an ounce of evidence on the scene. Besides, no one would ever dare rat him out; if you did you could be next. His popularity has also worked in his favor in another way: killers, drug dealers and other criminals who never had a chance of doing their deeds without being caught before are now able to try and sneak around under his shadows making it near to impossible to corner him.

Things are going to change soon, though, the public hopes, as the police department has brought in a special weapon: Downa 15. Downa 15 is a group consisting of six FBI special agents considered to be the best of the best. They work individually, in pairs and together as a somewhat unanimous collaboration. Ordered by their boss, Director Raymond Kendrick, this group of six is to be the dynamic team that will save Manhattan – and New York – from emanate self destruction. Their job is to help the Manhattan P.D. to track down the source of the problem, be it Rhys or not, and all of his counterparts with as little collateral damage as possible. It sounds easy enough, doesn’t it? Of course it does, everything sounds better on paper.

*Plot
*Rules
*Characters & Skeletons
*Accepted, Free and Reserved
*Announcements

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Rules :-

-: Please, I Beg of You Follow Gaia TOS They're there for a reason and we all appreciate them. So read and follow them. I don't want to get in trouble for your mistakes, nor should you want to get introuble for them. We want this to be a fun experiance for all!

-: Keep romance PG-13 Romance is going to be expected, in fact it's encouraged but please keep it appropriate!

-: Keep violence and language PG-13 I expect violence, and I know it's going to get bloody. Just don't get sadistic with it, OK? Also. I don't mind language at all. Just don't go crazy with it. If the situation calls for it, go ahead! Just don't use it for every other word.

-: When Talking Out of Character... please use [[]] {{}} or something of that nature, just so it's neat and we understand it. I *will* try and make an OOC thread if it becomes need.

-: LITERACY IS A MUST! I expect at least five well developed, descriptive sentences that give people something to reply to. That's about one paragraphs. More than that is encouraged but I won't hate you for not wink . Mainly I despise one-liners, they do not give anyone anything to really respond to. Even I get writers block, so I can understand shorter posts now and then. But don't make a habit of it. What I really don't want is oneliners. That's really the biggie. Spelling mistakes are accepted, but only if we can understand what you're trying to say. I will not accept chat speak or using any type of symbol for actions. I expect quotes for dialog and nothing for actions. I want thoughts in italics and all that good stuff, too. Novel setup please. Since tabs don't work on Gaia, please enter for a new paragraph. Also, if you could write in third person that would be great, it keeps everyone "unified"

-: THIS IS A LONG-TERM ROLE PLAY!!! I intend for this thread to continue on for awhile. Because of that I need role players who are willing to post regularly. Whether it be once a day or once a week, I don't care, as long as it's constant. This is a literate thread, I understand it might take a while to get up a really good, beefy post...but I don't want to have to wait forever. I will allow one week of unexcused absence before I send an email. After that there will be a time span of two days given to reply and tell me why you have been gone. If those two days go by without a response you will be removed from the thread.This does not mean that I am a horrible person - I understand things come up and there are instances and circumstances people can't get out of, just send me a PM or something the next time you get a chance and it will all be good even if I have removed you I will work it out. I am flexible as well and will take things on a case-by-case basis.

-: Please Read Everything! I know it's a lot, and it's tedious to have to read it all but, it's all here to help this thread run smoothly. If you really insist on skimming, at least read through the info and rules because they are most important ((obviously)).

-: Please Follow These Rules! I know they're a bit harsh but trust me, if everyone follows them this thread will be a fun, nicely flowing role play. Which we all want that...right???

-: Concerning Profiles... PM all profiles to me please, I don't want any profiles disturbing the thread, it's easier and far more organized if you PM them to me. PM the Downa 15 profiles with the title "The Wold's on Our Shoulders", Police Department Members with the title "One More Night Shift", Gang members with the title "Don't Step to My Side", Serial Killer's with the title "I Won't Tell if You Don't.", any others title "What's Going to Happen Next?". To let me know you read the rules thoroughly. If you can also put in an example of your Role playing abilities - if not don't sweat it. However, PLEASE DON'T START PLAYING UNTIL YOU HAVE THE OKAY. It's just polite.

-: Please, I Beg of You, Listen to What I Say I made this thread and I know what's best for it. However, there shall not be any godmoding on any parts! (It may be fun to you but not others) I have the right to add more rules if I want, and when I do I will put a heart in my next role play post so you'll know. In turn put a rofl so I know you've read the ammendment and/or announcement.


-: Most of all...HAVE FUN!!!!

NOTE:I'm really not a stuck up person. I just am trying to keep things in line. I think we all want a fun and upbeat atmosphere so everything runs smoothly. Just no flaming or criticizing others. Keep the peace, we'll all thank eachother for that.

*Plot
*Rules
*Characters & Skeletons
*Accepted, Free and Reserved
*Announcements

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

Characters:

A strike means the position has been acquired. An * means they are reserved and nothing means that they are free.

Available:

F.B.I Agents (Director's driver and Medical Examiner included)
Downa 15 Agents
Police Department members
Gang members
Serial Killers
Civillians
Rhys Damen
Director Kendrick

Profiles:

Downa 15- Special Agents

[Note all D. 15 agents, unless specified otherwise by you, should be at least a Crime Scene Investigator (C.S.I) and/or a Field Agent. If you choose to just be in a lab that is okay as well. Google works wonders to find FBI job positions.]

Matchings go as follows:

Agent 1-"team lead" female/Agent 2-male "team lead/Senior S.A."~

Agent 3-male/ Agent 4-female

Agent 5-female / Agent 6-male


~Note that Senior Special Agents just means you are more advanced that the others, even more than a "team lead". Not that you are old, though if you want you can be.

Downa 15- Skeletons

My badge says that my name is [First and Last name, middle is optional],
even though friends call me [nicknames if anything]. I happen to be [age, 23+] years old, but my badge number is [enter any number 1-40]. If you have to know I am [gender] and I tend to swing towards [mate preference].

In my time with the FBI I have solved [? (Make it realistic! Not like 1,000 or anything!)] number of cases, but have yet to technically "solve" this case. My partner is none other than [insert your partners name here. If you are agent 5, which you must state which agent you are when you PM the profile, then you would be paired with Agent 6 and so on and so fort. You obviously must have one.] and we've been working together, formally for [insert amount of years] almost the same amount of time I've worked for the FBI; [years of service]. He/She would tend to say that I am [personality]

Director Kendrick can be kind of scary when the going gets rough, but nonetheless I am proud to be a [speciality here]. Being undercover is a part of my life, so just so you don't get confused this is me [link, if possible try and make it a real person, if not, it's alright. Written descriptions are accepted as well if you wish].

Of course, I haven't always been here, working for the FBI. I have a life before and outside of here which you may or may not already know. I'll tell you anyway, [biography, including reasons for why you chose the job field you're now in]

Can there really be anything else I can tell you? (optional if you have other information you wish to tell) My favorite color is [posting color see: http://www.draac.com/colorchart.html , turn background color to white but pressing the button that asks you to change the background color and write in white] and my Director is none other than: [username]

-: Regular Agents :-

My badge says that my name is [First and Last name, middle is optional],
even though friends call me [nicknames if anything]. I happen to be [age, 23+] years old, but my badge number is [enter any number 1-40]. If you have to know I am [gender] and I tend to swing towards [mate preference].

In my time with the Federal Bureau I have solved [? (Make it realistic! Not like 1,000 or anything!)] number of cases. My partner is none other than [IF you have a partner, you insert it here. You do not have to have a partner.] and we've been working together, formally for [insert amount of years] if you’re wondering, that means I have been working for the FBI for [years of service]. My co-workers would tend to say that I am [personality]
Director Kendrick can be kind of scary when the going gets rough, but nonetheless I am proud to be a [specialty here]. Being undercover is a part of my life, so just so you don't get confused this is me [link, if possible try and make it a real person, if not, it's alright. Written descriptions are accepted as well if you wish].

Of course, I haven't always been here, working for the FBI. I have a life before and outside of here which you may or may not already know. I'll tell you anyway, [biography, including reasons for why you chose the job field you're now in]

Can there really be anything else I can tell you? (optional if you have other information you wish to tell) My favorite color is [posting color see: http://www.draac.com/colorchart.html , turn background color to white but pressing the button that asks you to change the background color and write in white] and my Director is none other than: [username]

Police department:

The name on my badge reads [first and last name, middle is optional] but for some unknown reason my pals in the department insist on calling me [nicknames if there are any]. I'm a [gender] and I tend to like [mate preference]. In all my [age] years I have never seen so much bloodshed in one area as I have in my [years of service] years of service on the Manhattan P.D. During that time my number [Badge # between 1-60] has rounded up [number of arrests. Once again make it realistic no 1,000].

Being a [Speciality] can be a hard job, and very time consuming but in most ways it's worth it. [If you have a partner add: Spending time locked in the squad car with Agent ____ can be an interesting occurance. (if you want to join up with an officer to be partners ask permission first)]. Minus a few gray hairs and premature wrinkles these past years haven't been bad ones. [Add in appearance link here. Real pictures preferred but anime will be accepted, written description if you wish is accepted as well] Of course, it's not suprising I've probably given some people some gray hairs as well. [Biography&reasons to be a cop]

Other info: (optional) My favorite color is/are [posting color see: http://www.draac.com/colorchart.html , turn background color to white but pressing the button that asks you to change the background color and write in white]

Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot, my Chief of Police is: [username]

Serial Killers

Hush, don't speak or else. My name is [insert first and last name, middle is optional] but the cops and news call me [the headline name that others have given you since they don't know who you are, really. Or so you hope]. Even if you can't see my face I am [male/female] and I am [age] years old and still goin' strong.

With every kill I [this is option, it's your "pattern of killing" so to speak. This is only required if you have a certain trademark such as a playing card left at every scene, etc...also, if you have a certain weapon you favor add it here]. Also, if you want to know, I've killed [# of casualities to your evil-ness, again, no 1000s or anything like that unless you've been around for EVER. Keep it realistic.]

My partner is [optional. You can have 0 or more than one, you don't necessarily have to kill with them all the time, like officers have to travel in teams, but cover eachother's hides when necessary. If it's an already made-up killer, check with that killer to make sure they're okay with it, then PM me.]

When my mask is off I look like [image inserted here - real people preferred but anime are accepted along with written description if you wish]. Not so scary huh? Or do I have you shivering already? Yeah, I tend to do that easily. [Biography&reason for being a killer even it's just a medical condition].

If you want to get a bit more into my world [other information. Optional] My favorite color is/are [positing color see: http://www.draac.com/colorchart.html , turn background color to white but pressing the button that asks you to change the background color and write in white]

Other than that, there's not much more I can say but that I am afraid of being caught by [Insert username]

Gang Members

-: Known gangs :-
-: Black Dragons
-:The Tigers
-: Black Aces
-: High Riders*


* Feel free to make up another gang as well, I will add it to the list so others know of it.

Gang Skeletons

Listen up, and listen good. I will only tell you once. I was born with the name [character’s name] ... But the others just call me [any nicknames ... I'm a [gender who lives by my own rules, and they have kept me alive for [age] years.

The [the gang you are in OR lead] is the name I support. And my job is being their [leader, regular member etc… “gang status”]. They have been my family for [# of years in gang]. If you happen to see me, I advise you forget my face. If you need a reminder here I am: [Your character’s image] Easy to forget. I am nobody and you never saw me. Now give me your keys.
Whats this about my sexuality? I know who I am, but if you want to know I go for it’s [sexual preference] so deal with it.

Why did I join this gang? [Biography, including why you joined the gang] My favorite color(s) is(are) [your posting color]

Would you like to know more about me? [optional. Additional information]

Any more questons? Take them my boss.. [username]

-: C.I.A. :-

Central Intelligance Agency

My name is [first, middle, last], though some people—who are familiar with me—call me [nickname(s)]. I am [age] years old, and I have been working for the government for [# of years worked] years, since the age of [age that you joined the CIA--youngest is eighteen, no lower]. I am a [gender], and I swing towards [sexuality]. Despite my age, I’m actually a pretty nice-looking person—considering, I suppose…this is what I look like: [image and/or description]

I haven’t told you what part of the government I worked for, have I? I work for the CIA, and I am proud to be a part of that government branch. Having worked for the CIA for [same number of years stated above] years, I am quite familiar with everything that goes on. My specialty, you ask? My job? Well, I think I can safely disclose that to you. My job is [specialty]. So, what does that make me exactly? [job title/description]. Most of the people that work for me would tell you that I am [personality].

Well, that surprised you, didn’t it? You didn’t expect to meet me, did you? Of course not. I wish I could say I’m a normal person, but then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I? I did, however, have remnants of a life before my work with the CIA. [Biography]

If there is anything else you might be interested to know, it would be this: [other]. My favorite color(s) is/are [post colors].

Oh, yes. My Director is none other than [username].

-: Others :-

Shh! Quiet! I'm not here to hurt you! My name is [character’s name], and I am a [Profession]. Don't freak out! I'm not a killer, I'm not a gang member, and I'm definitely not working for the government. I'm just a regular citizen...or not... [biography]

I don't mean to brag, but I look good for my age of [age],don't I? [character’s image] The photograph isn't all that great, but, once you see me, you will wonder what universe I came from. I don't have many friends, unfortunately--actually, I don't have any friends at all. If I did have one, though, he would probably describe me as [personality] My colors are [your posting color or colors].

If you've got a problem with me, take it to the person who is constantly watching my every move: [username]

*Plot
*Rules
*Characters & Skeletons
*Accepted, Free and Reserved
*Announcements

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

Accepted Profiles

*Federal Bureau of Investigation profiles

FBI <<accepted profiles >>

*N.Y.P.D. Manhattan profiles

Police Department <<accepted profiles>>

*Serial Killer profiles

Serial Killers <<accepted profiles>>

*Gang member profiles

Gang members <<accepted profiles>>

* Central Intelligance Agency

C.I.A. <<accepted profiles>>

*All others

Others <<accepted profiles>>

*Plot
*Rules
*Characters & Skeletons
*Accepted, Free and Reserved
*Announcements

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Announcements :-

*here is where I will post any need-to-know news.

:- March 28th, 2009 :- "When the Gun Fires" is now open and accepting!

:- June 22nd, 2009 :- "When the Gun Fires" accepted profiles have now been moved to OOC threads posted on the Accepted Profiles post.

*Plot
*Rules
*Characters & Skeletons
*Accepted, Free and Reserved
*Announcements

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Downa 15 Special Agents :-

-: Evangeline "Hawke-eye" McKenzie :-

-: Team Lead, Field Agent, CSI, Criminal Profiler. :-

Sleek black and gray, lined with shining chrome as beautiful as the day she first got it. Her bike, her reviving black engine, was her baby - only second to her gun of course. With one fluent movement she swung her leg over the side of the motorcycle, mounting it like you would a horse and pressed her foot to the excelerator. Glancing carefully to her right she checked the time on the dash and shook her head, looking up at the road infront of her. It was far to early to even consider contemplating how many hours she had already been up.

Another long nearly sleepless night was not exactly what the doctor ordered. However, all she ever got at night were nightmares that haunted her, memories from the past she couldn't fully see and anxiety she couldn't fully heal. "Damn it." She breathed, pounding her hand against the metal hand rests. The only thing she could do was breathe, breathe and attempt to let it go. They had bigger problems, her and the rest of D. 15, problems the size of the entire mass of New York - and growing. It was up to them, a group of six FBI agents, and the Manhattan Police Department to stop this reign of terror.

Pulling up the station Evangeline got off her bike and ran a hand through her hair, the helmet hadn't even been touched. Not a safe thing to do, Eva knew that, but at times like this she needed to have a chance to let go - that meant no helmet. Picking up her said helmet and stuffing it under one of her arms, as if she had used it, she headed into the Police Station. Opening the door to the front of the building she popped a piece of chewing gum in her mouth, in which she proceeded to chew noisily to release the stress of the past week. Nodding her head to the woman at the front desk and flashing her FBI badge she made her way down the hall to her and her partner's office. The lack of personal interaction between her and the woman felt odd so she made a quick effort to get away, there was defianately a large difference between that woman and Jibbs.

"Hey Jib," Was Eva's normal greeting to the man at the front desk as she entered the building, the door shutting tightly behind her. The man was average height with silvered hair and kind brown eyes who could sport the most memorable of smiles.

Flashing that smile he would nod to her, waving away her ID badge. "You're early, McKenzie," He would respond, his eyebrows raised up high on his forehead in shock. On a day like this he would say, "but not as early as usual. Something wrong?"

A small laugh would escaped Evangeline's lips, an act rare and special - how she managed it she wasn't sure. Jibbs would be right, though, she was usually one of the firsts to the agency - no matter what shift she was on. Today, though, she was later than usual - still early, but not as early. A true anomaly.

"Tired." She would reply, taking the coffee he handed her with pleasure. The warmth of the cup would heat her fingers and the steam carry the delicious scent to her nose. "Thanks, Jibbs."

His response would be that of a simple 'not a problem, ma'am'.

Of course, nothing of the sort happend there, not yet anyway. Her, and the rest of the D.15 group were new to the station and some didn't even want them there. Warmth, in a war-torn state, was hard to come by. Putting away her helmet and hanging jacket on the coat rack inside her and her partner's office, she walked over to her desk and sat down. The office was smaller than that of the one at their agency but a kind gesture nonetheless. A week before their arrival the department had cleared out empty offices and made room for the six new D. 15 Special Agents in three of them.

To her right was a stack of paper miles high, to her other side were files she had to look over that Director Kendrick had given her and her partner the day they left. Sighing softly, reminding herself that she needed to find something with caffiene in it soon, she leaned back into her chair. Brown hair fell over her small shoulders like a waterfall while tired emerald green eyes closed, savoring the calm silence. After savoring the few moments of peace and quiet she picked up the first file and began filtering through it.

[Chaotic_Theoretician]

"Find a gun, pick it up, put it to their head. Shoot 'em now, shoot 'em right, while they lie in bed. Hide away, toss the gun, wipe the prints--so clean. Keep on going, life keeps rolling--I am still unseen."

Scott Red Harrison



He's a real KILLER.

Yet another murder committed, yet another crime scene to be investigated for the F.B.I. and the NYPD. Scott Red Harrison chuckled, the tone quiet, friendly...and chilling all the same. It came from deep within his chest, though it was a light sound, not a rumbling one attributed to big men. Scott was not big, in the literal sense. He was lean and well muscled. It was only his towering height of six-foot-five that made him imposing, along with the chaos that reigned in his pupils...or the chaos he implanted there for people to see. He glanced down at the dead bodies, having murdered them as he normally always did--in the early morning, while they lie asleep in bed, oblivious to their doom. They never would wake up from their beautiful dreams. Scott had taken them from the cruel world and had transported them elsewhere, to what he called the 'Land of Eternal Dreams'. They would live in their fairy-tale land, never having to worry about the cruelities of life on Earth. Scott had done them a favor.

Scott pocketed the Colt .45, a gun he treasured and loved. The cold metal against his fingertips always sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. The acridity of the gunpowder tickled his nose, but it did not annoy him. It was a scent he had familiarized himself with fifteen years before, when he had been a cop just out of the Academy, working for the Law. It was a smell he had grown to like, a smell that told him of the things to follow; it reminded him of the past and helped him look forward to the ever-present future. The gun clinked in his pocket, having tapped some of the spare rounds. He had all ready removed the sound-suppresser from the end of the gun's barrel. It was early in the morning--he didn't want to rudely wake up anyone.

Placing the silencer in the other pocket, Scott stooped down. "Sweet dreams, little laddies," he whispered, his voice thick with a fake Irish accent. "Stay in the Land of Dreams, with all the dreamers that I have put there. Struggle through this life no longer." His voice had changed from the Irish accent to a British one. "The whispers you heard were the voices from the Dreamers, telling you it was your time to go there. Dream hard, dream well. Life there is much more swell."

Scott pulled up the covers of the quilt to the young couple's chins, his tight-fitting, black leather gloves making no noise as they stretched over his knuckles in response to his grip around the blanket. Stepping away from the bed, he looked no more upon the corpses. He had to leave, to make sure that there was enough distance between himself and the murder. As he exited the room, he clicked on one of the lamps. The light fell across the serene faces of the female and male, also illuminating a card that had been carefully laid between them. It read: Good-Bye.

Scott tread through the house carefully, making sure he had disturbed nothing on his way in and on his way out. He slid the window that he had come in through shut and pulled the curtains across it, the way he had found it before he had broken in. He resorted to using the back door, where he locked it on the inside and shut it, locking himself out--making it look like there had been no entry to the house whatsoever. He followed along the paved patio and hopped over the fence with ease, his long legs accomodating the height. He made no sound as he dropped onto the other lawn. He was quick to reach the sidewalk, where he assumed a normal look about him. He was sure that no one would bother to look out from their houses at six in the morning. Many of them would have just been getting up, maybe relieving themselves. They wouldn't even consider looking out the windows to look across the street. It was unprobable.

Scott traversed a few blocks, his trenchcoat swishing around his legs in the light, early morning breeze. The sky was dark and gloomy, heavy with pregnant rain clouds. The rain would start soon, and Scott could hardly wait. He pictured rain as a cleansing method--not for him, but for the Dreamers he had sent to the Land of Dreams. It was their way of crying, of telling those they had left behind, 'You should be here with us, instead of suffering on Earth!' A small smile touched upon Scott's face, a rarity. It was quite startling to anyone who saw it. It brightened his peacock-blue eyes, and his nicely combed hair would look a little softer, their brown tones looking as if they shifted into a darker, warm caramel color.

Reaching a motorcycle that was parked a block from the house, he removed his trenchcoat with a suave style about him and folded it up, tieing it down to the back of his bike. He picked up the black, red-lined leather jacket that had been draped across the seat and slipped it on. He didn't bother to zip it up, nor did he even regard the helmet he had tied down atop his trenchcoat. He merely slung his leg over the black bike. The thin lines of silver and red color trailed up and down the bike's body, starting at the front of the bike, making its way over and around the tank, and reaching to the end of the tail. It was one helluva mean machine.

Kicking up the kickstand, Scott turned on the engine. He had been drawn to this bike when he had first entered the Harley-Davidson motorcycle shop, but he had made sure that it had fulfilled the requirements needed. It had passed with flying colors. The engine, when revved, was quiet, until the speedometer pushed past forty miles per hour. It was only then that the growling, rumbling sound attributed to a Harley was audible. Gently revving the throttle, Scott traveled down the streets, his bike hardly heard. When he reached the main streets, he pushed the bike up to the normal speed limit and headed on home, the murders safely behind him.

They call me Whisper...



"They call me Whisper, don't you see? They are blind--all they hear is me. My voice is quiet, spoken in different ways. Those who hear it are the ones who pay."
--from Writings of a Killer

[Thirteen Broken Hearts]

"Once upon a time, I called out in the dark, but you just ignored my screams until you found me, lying motionless in my own blood....,"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI.s.a.b.e.l.l.e||T.r.i.a.d||N.i.g.h.t.i.n.g.a.l.e

< < N.i.g.h.t > > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hostage Negotiator and Linguist"

"Look, I can curse at you in ten different languages, don't push it,"

Isabelle blinked twice before she realized that she wasn't at home where she should have been. In a sudden rush of fear, she reached for the holstered gun at her side. Holding it out in front of her, it took a couple seconds for her to realize exactly where she was. The woman sighed and shook her head as she stood up, stretching her cramped muscles.

She gripped her shoulder as a sudden wave of pain rushed through her shoulder. It had only been three weeks since her release from the hospital after getting shot, and the pain was still there. Ignoring the pain, her silverish blue eyes fell upon the gravestone that she had been leaning up against. The stone was engraved with the following: "Connor Nikolas Nightingale, beloved brother, son and police officer, you will be missed."

The woman rubbed her hand over her brothers gravestone. Oh, how she missed him and Sammy. She remembered the night that her brother's partner had told her her brother had been killed. Not even two months later, the same man shot himself over her own brother's grave. Her brother would have been angry that she had let her guard down by falling asleep in the open this early in the morning.

She checked her watch and sighed, rubbing her eyes. Since she was already wide awake and ready for work, she might as well go ahead and check in. Isabelle gave one last tear filled look to her brother's grave, then walked off. The woman found her car parked right outside the graveyard on the side of the road. Gladly, no on had touched it.

Isabelle slipped into the driver's seat, but she didn't start the car just yet. Instead, she pulled down the mirror and fixed her hair. Her few friends knew that the woman didn't pay much attention to the way she looked, but her hair had gotten messed up in the windy morning hours. Once she had finished putting up her dark red hair in her trademark ponytail, she made sure to wipe the tears from her eyes.

As soon as she was finished, Isabelle started the car and drove until she came up on the Manhatten Police Department building. She parked it in an enclosed parking area, then got out. Her HRT issued boots made barely any noise on the linolium floor as she stepped into the station. Isabelle knew that it was probably a waste, but she always dressed in her normal uniform from the FBI. The uniform consisted of a gray jacket covering a black sleeveless shirt matching the slate gray bants. Under her shirt she always wore a bullet proof vest for extra caution, something her brother had taught her.

The woman at the front desk looked up as Isabelle flashed her badge. Isa walked hurriedly past the two desks and sighed inwardly once she was past. It was obvious, the hostility the police held for the Downa 15 agents. Isabelle looked over at one of the offices and wondered if Eva was in already. Most likely, she was. Eva was always in earlier than everybody else. Isabelle was usually the second or third in, but not as early as this morning.

Isabelle stepped into her office and closed the door behind her. Her partner wasn't in yet, but somebody had left enough paperwork to take up her time until he got there. The woman laid her bottle of iced tea down on the desk, opening a drawer to the left. It took her a couple minutes of rifling through the drawer until she pulled out a clear pill bottle.

The woman opened the child proof cap after a few difficulties, tossing two white pills into her open hand. Clenching the pills in one hand, she tossed the container back into the drawer and closed it. She eyed the pain pills in her hand with disgust. They weren't the tiny ones that they gave little kids, no they were the huge white ones that took about two doctors notes to prove to the pharmacy you needed that big of a dose. Usually they were given to soldiers that came back from war or officers that were wounded in action. Her's had been two bullets shot into the back of her shoulder, barely missing her shoulder blade.

She had been looking for the perpertrator for days now as a side case to what she was working on her, but still hadn't found the man. All she knew was that he had been male, nothing more. She hadn't seen his face and neither had her partner.

Once she had down the pain pills with what was left of her tea, Isabelle sat down and picked up one of the packs of papers on a minor case from three days prior. The woman sighed and started reading thinking, what a waste of my time

"I whispered I would die for you and in return, you shot me in the back...,"

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Downa 15 Special Agents :-

-: Evangeline "Hawke-eye" McKenzie :-

-: Team Lead, Field Agent, CSI, Criminal Profiler. :-

'Fifteen files through the deck and not a damned clue that could help.' Evangeline thought with a sigh, the tone that which was of aggrivation, and stood, shoving her chair underneath the desk. There had to be something, anything that could lead to the end of this madness. But what? Pushing the first fifteen files to her partners desk she bent down, resting her elbows on the gray surface area and stared down at the top file of the resuming stack. Biting her lip her emerald green eyes narrowed, some of the murders were clearly random while others had patterns and others, well, others were so far gone it was hard to tell anymore. "A waste of time." She spat angrily and stood, walking across the length of the room. She needed distraction, water, air, something to give her a change to sort her mind out. As she left the office she shut the door behind her, trusting the members of the P.D. as little as they trusted the D. 15, for there is no telling what one will do when they do not trust someone. Of course, not all of the officers there had friction with the Downa 15 special agents, several of them had taken on kindly to their interaction and help with the investigations. It was the others that were the problems, the ones that thought the FBI was poking their nose into personal affairs. Perhaps they were right in their own way, the FBI was poking their nose into Manhattan, and New York's, affairs but not because the Police Department was no longer capable but because they were seemingly overwhelmed and no one wanted anymore bloodshed.

Water, tea and soda were what they had in the break room of the Police Department, as the coffee machine had broken some three or four days prior to the FBI agents arrival. "How convenient," Evangeline had uttered to her partner and the other agents when she discovered the broken machine. Pulling her hair back she choose the only item there that was anywhere near coffee and alright to her taste buds: tea. Although she was not particularly a 'tea' kind of person, she would take tea over grape soda any day. Gingerale and Orange soda might have been a different story.

The sound of foot steps made Evangeline stiffen out of ingrained reflexes before she turned her head long enough to see Isabelle's body enter her and Agent Three's office. Raising her eyebrow in a thoughtful manor she got an idea. Taking the steaming cup of tea and swiping two bagels and a variety of spreads (precisely one of everything just in case) the young agent left the break room, followed by a few scrutinizing stares. Let them stare, the young woman thought with a shrug of her shoulders. Stopping infront of Isabelle's door Evangeline knocked with the only limb not carrying anything, her feet. "It's me, Night." Evangeline said, like it should have meant something before thinking better of it, "Eva."

[Thirteen Broken Hearts]

"Once upon a time, I called out in the dark, but you just ignored my screams until you found me, lying motionless in my own blood....,"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI.s.a.b.e.l.l.e||T.r.i.a.d||N.i.g.h.t.i.n.g.a.l.e

< < N.i.g.h.t > > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hostage Negotiator and Linguist"

"Look, I can curse at you in ten different languages, don't push it,"

Isabelle had been half asleep reading the files. The pain pills weren't supposed to make her drowsy, but Isa wasn't so sure. It could have been the "Waste of My Time" files. They had nothing useful in them that would help Downa 15 much less New York.

She heard the knock on the door, her eyes drifting with drowsyness. Then she heard the words that scared her out of her sudden daze. "Your brother was killed early this afternoon,"

Isabelle blinked realizing she had fallen out of the chair. Shaking in almost fear, the woman stood up. She cried out in pain, not too loud, but loud enough that Eva could probably hear.

Isabelle grabbed her shoulder, pushing her chair out of her way. She stumbled towards the door and used her left arm to open the door. The woman waved Eva inside, then once again went to clenching her right shoulder. She closed the door behind Eva, suspicious eyes watching from the outside.

She sat down in her chair, spinning around to look at Eva closely. Her teeth were still clenched in pain as she faked a smile for her friend. She tilted her towards the drawer where her pain pills were. "Those doctors must have given faulty pain pills," she groaned.

"I whispered I would die for you and in return, you shot me in the back...,"

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Downa 15 Special Agents :-

-: Evangeline "Hawke-eye" McKenzie :-

-: Team Lead, Field Agent, CSI, Criminal Profiler. :-

Evangeline chewed worriedly on her gum as she listened to the noise within Isabelle's office. Soft, painful cries and fumbling were never a good sign of any sort, especially in an officer's office. Her worry was only confirmed when her fellow Downa 15 agent opened the door and ushered her in. "Thanks," Evangeline said, noting that the younger woman had opened the door with her left arm and not her right. Glancing carefully over her shoulder she watched the stares several officers threw their way and rolled her eyes, turning to face her fellow agent as the door shut tightly behind her.

"You are one horrible liar." Evangeline pointed out when they were alone, walking over and dropping one of the bagels on Isabelle's desk along with the pile of spreads. "A horrible liar that needs to eat breakfast, if I may ammend my previous statement." Picking up a fruit-cream cheese spread Evangeline tossed it in the air, opened it and stuck the end of the bagel in it. Being up for several hours without eating had made her appetite a hungry one, but she had been ignoring it for quite some time despite the fact she knew better. Tossing her gum out in the garabage she broke off an end of her bagel and scraped it in the cream cheese. "You know I am about the last person on Earth that likes medical physician's. I don't like anything, or anyone for that matter, that comes near me with sharp objects and wants me to say "Ahhh". I'd rather die. So you know I'd be the first to agree with you that they probably indeed gave you faulty pills." Giving her friend a small wink she nearly smiled, her lips twitching up on one side as if the muscles wanted her to do so before they quickly relaxed and turned in the downward direction. "Your arm still bothering you, Night?" The young woman asked her friend, leaning up against a filing cabinet. It was a stupid question she was sure, but inquiry couldn't hurt. "Honestly, not that my imput matters much, you never took the time off you should. Of course, I'm not one to talk - been there, done that...but, you know, we - and when I say we I mean Director Kendrick and the rest of us D.15-ers, we care..." Allowing her sentence to die in mid air she sighed deeply. Staring down at her tea she tilted the hot foam cup around by twisting of her wrist, watching the dark liquid swirl around. The steam that smelled of herbs was warm and so was the liquid she realized as part of it lapped up the side of the cup, hitting her bare fingers. Clenching her teeth lightly for a moment she looked back up at Isabelle tilting her head a bit."Please, do say something to get me off of my ooshy-gooshy side."

[Chaotic_Theoretician]

"Get up, go to work, head on home for bed. Roll around, toss and turn, dreadful pictures in my head. Working hard, working long, workin' well past dawn. Throw 'em in, lock 'em up, cage the devil's spawn."

♣ Erin Frey Wulf ♣



Homicidal Detective
...Talk about a Maniac...

Erin Wulf Frey stretched, her back cracking loudly. She yawned--not from drowsiness, but from boredom. It was early in the morning, the day gloomy and cloud from the incoming storm. Erin glanced down at her watch, the scratched watchface telling her the time quickly as the seconds ticked by on the smallest hand of the three. The mumbling of the commanding officer droned in her ears as she tried to pay attention to the lecture he was giving to all the officers on the first shift. Her attention drifted away from the man's face and gazed around the room, flitting from face to face. Many who met her gaze immediately looked a way, perturbed by her frightful eyes. Her eyes were a deep brown--almost a chocolate brown--but the pupils screamed insanity. And it was true.

Having lost her mother and father when she turned twenty--when she was a year out of the Academy--she had drifted into a deep depression that occupied most of her thoughts. However, she had found somebody to trust, and he was one of the only men in the world whom she had confided in about her troubles. A year had passed since her parents' death, and it was only then, while on a stake-out, that her partner--her best friend--was shot. That was when Erin had snapped. She took a sick leave for almost a month, brooding in her home, watching the Lethal Weapon movies...estranged from the world. Her heart had died then, and she considered herself heartless even now, nearly nine years later. Ninety-nine percent of the officers in the NYPD feared her, and there wasn't a single cop that didn't know her name, or her reputation.

A tap on the shoulder jolted Erin from her thoughts, and she glanced sharply at the person who had disturbed her. It was the commanding officer himself. He, too, looked away, at first, still having not been accustomed to her wild eyes. Wisps of brown hair had fallen into her face, the rest pulled back into a rough ponytail.


"You been drinking again?" the man--Herney--asked.

"Not as much as you think," Erin replied, a crazed grin touching her lips.

The grins were not as much a rarity as they could've been. No one ever recalled, however, of Erin ever smiling a genuine, insane-free smile. In reality, Erin hadn't smiled such a warm, friendly smile since 1999, the year her closest friend had been shot. Even then, those warm smiles had been rare. Her male friend had been the only one who had been able to make her smile. Her grins nowadays were as crazy as a rabid dog, and those who encountered them were often left shuddering days afterward.

"How much have you been drinking, then?" Herney continued.

"I'm getting better--one glass."

"How big was the glass?"

"As big as your thermos," Erin answered, pointing to the coffee thermos in the chief's hand; Herney patted Erin on the shoulder, and it was only then that Erin realized that the room had cleared.

"Follow me," Herney said, and Erin obediently followed him to his office.

Herney shut the office door behind Erin and settled into his leather chair behind a large mahogany desk. He sighed as he sat down, his green eyes closing for a moment. He was in his early fifties, and the only sign of age was the grey in his hair. He picked up a file on his desk and handed it to Erin.

"Ever heard of a killer named Whispers?"

Erin nodded her head and opened the file, glancing down at the paperwork inside. There was no photograph, obviously, because the killer was as elusive as smoke, and just as hard to catch. She looked back up at Herney and gestured to the documents. "My new assignment?"

"Follow procedure, my girl, and it's all yours."

She is one Lethal Weapon



"I am insane, it's plain to see. I am a Lethal Weapon secretly. I wear a badge for most the night. I give the villians a mighty fright."
--from Writings of a Hero

[Thirteen Broken Hearts]

"Once upon a time, I called out in the dark, but you just ignored my screams until you found me, lying motionless in my own blood....,"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI.s.a.b.e.l.l.e||T.r.i.a.d||N.i.g.h.t.i.n.g.a.l.e

< < N.i.g.h.t > > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hostage Negotiator and Linguist"

"Look, I can curse at you in ten different languages, don't push it,"

Isabelle smiled weakly when her friend called her a liar. She shrugged and gave Eva a look that said, Of course I am. The woman nodded towards the bagel, reaching for it. "Thanks," she replied taking a small bite.

She tried not to cringe when she moved her shoulder. She didn't want to worry her teammates. Of course what Eva continued with made it obvious that she was already worrying them.

Isa smiled again, then frowned as another wave of pain shot through her. Angrily, she kicked the drawer to her desk. The objects on her desk shook roughly then returned to their immobile state.

"I probably should have taken time off, but how much safer do you think I would be compared to here with friends?" she asked. Night spun around in the chair at the mention about getting her off her gooshy side.

The woman grabbed the stack of folders that she had already gone through. With that she spun back around, clenching them tightly in her hands. Once she was in front of Eva, she gave her another smile as she slammed the stack down on an oddly empty part of her desk.

Her temper was already flaming in her eyes from the time she had kicked the desk to then. Usually once she was angry, it took her awhile to calm down. "Do they even know how damn useless that crap is?" she snapped trying to to sound too angry.

"I whispered I would die for you and in return, you shot me in the back...,"

[SparklingBloodRedRoses]

-: Downa 15 Special Agents :-

-: Evangeline "Hawke-eye" McKenzie :-

-: Team Lead, Field Agent, CSI, Criminal Profiler. :-

Holding up her hand the D.15 agent nodded in response to her teammates 'thank you'.

"An argument well won," Evangeline told Isabelle with a sparkle in her eye, the closest thing most saw to a smile from her, "Of course, it was only me you won over - I'm not so sure how easy our other teammates will be to win over, better yet Director Kendrick. Have you ever tried to win an argument with him? Very difficult." Snorting softly she remembered the time Kevin, her old partner, had once tried winning over Director Kendrick. Ironically, in the worst of ways, it was over the same event that eventually took his life.

"I don't want to hear it anymore, Agent Jones." Director Kendrick said, slamming a gun down on the table infront of me. Although he handed her the gun, his eyes were only on her elder, more experianced partner. "Get your things, you and McKenzie move out with a full company tonight. We stake it out until they leave. No negotiations."

"Director Kendrick, if we do that the child's dead. They aren't interested in the money any longer they're interested in saving their hide - even Eva will back me up there." Glancing at her partner Evangeline widened her eyes. "We need to go in, full blown. Treat like a hostage situation - it is a hostage situation, Director."

"You go in on a stake out, Agent Jones, and if you do anything else, or instruct the others to, I will have your badge for it." Moving his dark eyes from her partner to Evangeline, Director Kendrick pointed his finger at her. "You know the difference between right and wrong. Remember that logic." If the girl, then a newbie, hadn't stopped her partner he would have continued the fight. "Leave it alone," She whispered to Kevin to break the intense eye battle both her partner and her boss held. "Kevin, we have to do what he says." Begrudingly her partner agreed.

Looking back Evangeline couldn't decide which option would have been better, or rather which one would leave him alive. Shaking her head lightly the agent cleared her head, pushing the past from it. All that ever gave her was headaches. "They gave you the same files too?" She mused, leaning forward and picking up one of the files, looking at Isabelle out of the corner of her eye thanking her silently for the change of subject. Emotions were a complicated subject for Eva, she never knew if she was feeling too much or too little or what her body was comfortable with, it was ever changing. Flipping through the file Evangeline shook her head, "Hasn't done too good so far, but I guess they've trying to accomodate us as best as they can. At least they're letting us view the files - or the cases for that matter. I wondered for awhile there how welcome we really were...I still do a bit." Landing on the last case in the file Evangline rubbed her neck, resting the foam cup on a clear edge of Isabelle's desk. Carefully she examined the victims pictures, "You have to be sick to do something like this."

[Chaotic_T. Your first post for Erin is amazing! smile ]

[Thirteen Broken Hearts]

"Once upon a time, I called out in the dark, but you just ignored my screams until you found me, lying motionless in my own blood....,"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI.s.a.b.e.l.l.e||T.r.i.a.d||N.i.g.h.t.i.n.g.a.l.e

< < N.i.g.h.t > > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hostage Negotiator and Linguist"

"Look, I can curse at you in ten different languages, don't push it,"

Isabelle nodded slowly towards Eva in understanding. She knew how hard it was to argue with director. She had done it often, the one person that Isa could never win an argument. She smiled remembered the only argument she had won against the Director. It had been about going ahead and rejoining her teammates instead of taking a month off like he had wanted.

Night saw the pain that crossed her partners eyes and knew she was remembering something from her past. The woman slowly reached towards the tattoo on her neck and rubbed it. Her mind started thinking about hidden memories. The night she had been shot was hazy, she barely remembered anything. The memories came and went as she remembered what had gone on.

"Night!" Isabelle spun around when Agent Three grabbed her shoulder. His eyes met hers as he gripped her by the shoulders tightly. She pulled away angrily. Her own eyes were tear filled.

A dark man's sillouette was disappearing behind her back as she turned around again. Isa grabbed her gun and went to run after the man. Agent Three tackled her to the ground, forcing her to hold still as he stared down at her. "Stop it, he's getting away!" she snapped at him.

"No, Night, there's a gang out here, were just two armed cops to them, easy pickings," her partner snapped back, "Calm down Night, please, let's go and call reinforments,"

Isabelle was almost to tears as she struggled against her partners grip. She had already wrestled herself into a position on her knees, but her partner still held her tightly. "Let me go, he knows something about the mall tragedy, he knows about my brother!" she cried.

It took a couple more minutes for Agent Three to calm her down, but soon Isa was silent. He let her go slowly and then backed away as soon as he was sure she wasn't going to run after the man that had disappeared. He handed her gun out to her as she walked towards him.

"Die, you FBI scum," a sudden voice yelled out, a deep voice, a male voice. There were two loud cracks, the sound of gunshots. Isabelle jumped forward to block her partners way. All Isa saw was her partner's frowning face turn into a yell as he rushed to catch her as she fell. Night felt him hold her in his arms as she gripped her bleeding shoulder. "Night, stay with me, don't stop breathing," he said to her watching the area around them quietly. The gunman was already gone and Agent Three started talking on his phone. "We have an agent down, I need a medic, NOW!" he snapped. He looked down at her with a worried look. He knew the bullets had been aimed at him. She had moved into the path of the bullets. "Why?" he asked. "I'd die.....for you," she whispered quietly to him as she bled, dying in his arms.

Isabelle heard Eva start speaking again and she blinked. Why did she keep remembering? The words she had thought would be her last were always vivid in her mind, but she had forgotten Agent Three keeping her from going after the man.

She nodded tiredly in reply to Eva's question about the files. She eyed them angrily and it was obvious what she was thinking about. She looked through the file that Eva had picked up behind her. She gave a small grunt as she shook her head again. "Isn't that the truth, of course in today's world sometimes their doing them a favor," she said quietly, "Not like I'm condoning these killers or anything,"

"I whispered I would die for you and in return, you shot me in the back...,"