Nicodemus Celestine is the youngest son of a Internationally reknowned Artist and has seen many days of luxury in his 26 years, raised with that silver spoon in his mouth that infected his tongue with his father's poetic influence. Being one of 8 offspring, and the youngest, he was the baby and the favorite for his apptitude for intelligence compared to his elders and that was something that stung him where it hurt when his baby sister was born. She was suddenly the favorite, having the man Nicci idolized wrapped around her tiny pink finger. Try as he might to regain the lost attention, he employed some rather vindictive studies; piano so he could reach his father on an artistic level even though personally Nicci was tone deaf beyond cure, tinkering with old magic to recreate forgotten potions to warp the mind then refining them to being more effective. Nothing was sacred when Nicci didn't get his way, he poisoned the food at the dinner table, tried to kill his sister with "accidents", even went the round about way and messed with some of his father's business deals. The final straw to break Nicci's shell and push him out of the house was his Elder Brother, Maleficus, declared war on the family louder than Nicci had and left to join the army having taken all of their Father's attention with him in the aftermath. Pissed beyond control, Nicci moved out too with anyone even noticing which dug the thorn deeper in his side.
Half a year of living on his own, using his skills and natural airs to pave power out of air, Nicci lives comfortably in the city where he peddles his refined potions to the human addicts that form the foundation of his little kingdom. It's not much compared to what he had living on the family estate but it's his wealth and he's very willing to spread a little charity when it benefits him. Such was the case for Scarlett Moresco, poor thing had such a sob story and looked so cute when crying on bended knee begging him for the loan that would make everything okay again. Truth be told he might not have really cared what troubles Scarlett had but he did like being owed something. So much attention, being the scales of life and death for, for as long as Nicci wanted he could make himself the center of Scarlett's whole world- that he would never turn down.
When payback time rolled around, Nicci went looking for it personally and with no plans of leaving or letting any of that debt balance out...Like the toxins he sold, Nicci would ruin Scarlett for the fun of it and there didn't seem like much Scarlett could do about it...or was there?
Pairing Style Summery :: Special Case MasterXSlave, ManipulatorxVictim, Rich BoyxDesperate Person, Cold Psychological Thriller, Accepting both Hetero and Yaoi Story Flavor : Metallica - Sad But True
~~*Applications Closed*~~
Herbal Refreshment
Posted: Thu Jan 23, 2014 6:04 pm
Cast
Name : NicodemusCelestine Age : 26, Considered infantile in Demon culture and Siren culture, physically matured by human standards Gender : Male Race : Horror Hybrid/ Judo Christian Style Devil of the Pit and Mediterranean Siren Personal Orientation : Heterosexual (Pan as per standard to his demon blood but has yet to grow into it), Verbal Sadist (enjoys the partner's embarrassment) especially if they cry Occupation : Alchemic Potion Journeyman/ Heavy weight Gang Boss and Drug Dealer Skills : Cooking, Coercion, Is learning to play piano by Vibration Talents : Swimmer, Memory, Recipes, He has a beautiful singing voice, he just can't hear it and thinks he sounds like a dying cat Special :Elemental Form/ can make his body become fluid water with complete mastery of it down to mere localization by thought, Mind Link {Family and Invitation only}, Dual Breathing {As he is part water creature he can breath under water}, Siren's Song {By tapping this power he forces others to tell the truth as they know it}
Personality : Slothful, Lusting, Greedy, Wrathful, Envious, Pride enamored, Glutton, Nicodemus is a balanced enbodiedment of all seven deadly sins with class. He has a flare for fashion and would sooner be caught dead and nude than in a cheap cotton shirt or sweat pants. He's quick in a fight and is very hard to hit, but if you can hit him, he's a cry baby. Mostly, Nicci is a tricky b***h that can sell Coke to Pepsi to get his way. He'll be your best friend right up to the moment he stabs you in the back and still make it seem like he's on your side. As cool and cultured as he seems to be on the surface, Nicci has alot of repressed anger and is a very violent person. He bits his tongue on a lot of things that really bother him, especially in regards to his family situation and will take them out on whatever intimate partner he's using at the time. This is specifically true in the case of his relationship with his mother. Romantically, it's not going to happen. He makes it impossible for any woman to love him, nipping those feelings in the bud with a well placed insult. There's plenty to like about him, he just won't let it happen. He's a lechor and that's all he claims to want. Being told he's loved irritates him deeply and will move him to extreme violence. Flaw : If his mouth is open he's either eating or lying, Possessive and Jealous, Fake Redeeming Feature : Studious as his interests come and go, smart, puts up a clever illusion of passive aggression like he just might be a good person inside after all Likes : Power, Expensive clothes, Company with conversation Dislikes : Being forgotten, Certain reminders, For the rest just pray you don't find out...
Background : Nicci's mother, Morgana, has thus far been the only bride to his Father, Octavo, that has married him of her own will. She sought him out at the Celestine Estate, Rosewort Chateau, and requested to bare a child of demonic blood that would return to her island when the child was strong enough and of age so that the pirates that forced the Siren pod from their home and slaughtered them would taste the vengeance coming to them. It was made clear to her that in order for the child to reach full power potential, she would have to die and be consumed by the child someday. Knowing this, she went through with it. Nicodemus was bred out of hatred and a drive for revenge but personally has no intention of ever leaving his home on the estate. She prattled at him about how important this life mission was the entire time he knew her and it was boring. All his current memories of her are marred by that story of blood and pirate and how he was supposed to skewer every last one of them, men women, children without mercy or exception. He can't recall her smile if she ever had one, just that she smelled like sea water and flowers when she held him in her lap telling these stories. He remembers her as a boring vindictive b***h that tasted like salmon when he ate her. Her wish to have the pirates that wiped out her, his, blood line has remained untouched and seems that it will continue that way for quite some time yet because of his lack of interest. On the other side of things, his relationship to his father is fine. He considers himself rather close to the man, mirroring his style and mannerisms hoping to become the favorite. For a while he was but then Octavo married a new woman and bore his younger sister Magdalene who is the new baby and new favorite in the house. He has to admit some respect for her as well but he still harbors a jealousy toward the brat. Since she took his place as favorite, he has moved off the estate and set up his own business in the city. He now lives in a town house loft just off the court square as a sort of irony...
LOOKS Hair : Black, fashion cut thats short at the bottom and longer on top, usually lightly gelled and combed back Eyes : Brown, Sincere, Glows Red when emotional Distinguishing Feature : Sheet white natural skin tone, Tattoos Hieght : 5'11' Build : Nimble bodied more tall than broad, smoothly fit, not cut but healthy muscle mass, clear swimmers body Family Record : Demon Father, Octavo, Siren Mother, Morgana, now deceased, half brother to Simone, Camille, Malithikar, and Magdalene, Has three more siblings he doesn't claim
Notes for Play ** Is Tone Deaf, No demon can hear music as further punishment for Lucifur's betrayal of the Holy Order ** Will answer to "Nicci" in the informal
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𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂𝌃𝌂
Ѕcɐrlεtt Mϕrɐscϕ
Age: 22 Gender: Female Race: Human Prefrence: Heterosexual, not without some past drunken experimentation. Occupation: Unemployed {spends most of her time picking her father up from the floor.} Skills: Writing Music, Skateboarding, Dancing Talents: Guitar & Picking Pockets
Personality: Loud, honest, immovable, brave, Soft, Loving, and nurturing. She's never cared about her clothing choices, or the latest fashions, her life style has never even begun to give her the luxury of it. She never stops to think about the words that come out over mouth, if you ask her opinion on something she'll be blunt and truthful, damned be the consequences. She believes everything can be fixed, and no case can be deemed 'too far gone'. Rich, snobs piss her off, though she's not a violet or angry person by nature, if someone get's physical with her, she will finish that fight, & She plays dirty. Flaws: Has an affinity to Alcohol, verging on addiction. Get's hurt easily. Redeeming Quality: Given the right situation, she can push away the drink and forget about it. Puts others above herself in priority. Likes: German beers, tattoos, Acoustic Remakes Dislikes: Snobs, expensive gifts, the color pink Background: Scarlett's father has been an addict as long as she can remember, it drove her mother out when she was no more that 5. Because of her father's addiction to methamphetamine she grew up in the part of the city that not even the police dared to tread. Her father would go missing for days only to be dumped on her doorstep, covered in his own excrement, and mid crash. Because of her father's incompetence as a parent she grew up quickly, taking care of herself and him. She learned quickly theft was her only option for survival, but as she grew older and discovered her talent in music, she began playing in clubs and bars for extra cash. Which lead to her affinity to Liquor, people would often buy her drinks, and she developed quite a habit. Even though life had started looking up for herself, her father dug into her money stash and blew it on getting high and gambling for more money, eventually he amassed too much debt for her to pay back and she is reaching the end of her already too short rope.
xxxThe sun had set hours ago, and yet the streets were as bright as day. People walked past in a blur, and the noise was close to deafening. Cars sped past at breath taking speeds, laying on their horns at equally incompetent drivers. Scarlett was careful not to step to close to the curb, so as not to get clipped by a rouge cab. She'd just stepped out of a bar, feeling a little more than tipsy, she threw her beat up, thrift store guitar case over her back, and pulled the collar of her leather jacket up, to fight off the slight wind chill. It was warm for autumn, but in the middle of the city, with the buildings towering over her like protective giants, it was common. Trading the measly amount of bills in her hand for the cell in her breast pocket, she pushed a few buttons and held it to her ear as she walked. xxxTo others she didn't look different than any other punk that frequented the bars in the middle of the night. Tight, destroyed jeans, stained with god knows what, a cropped, black Metallica tank, Auburn hair pulled into a loose bun, and dark shades hiding her brilliant blue diamond eyes. Albeit her walk was a little swayed, she could handle her liquor well enough a cop wouldn't ask questions.
The phone rang once and gave her a familiar message 'We're sorry, you have run out of minutes, please refill your card and try again.' followed by a dial tone. xxxxxxIt took her almost two hours to walk all the way home, not wanting to spend precious money on a cab. The part of the city she called home was a place even the police wouldn't enter, though not surprisingly no one dared mess with her. A man once cornered her and tried to take her money on the way stumbling home one night and failed quite miserably, earning himself a trip to the hospital and a pretty new scar to decorate his face. After the incident word spread like fire; 'Scarlett Morasco is not the little girl down the road, and she doesn't play nice, I'd stay away from her if I were you...' Of course everyone knew her father too. 'Poor girl...' they'd say, 'How does she live that?' they'd say. But the truth was, she loved her father, when her mother left her all alone with him, she realized he was all she had and swore to take care of him until the day he died. A big promise for a five year old, wide eyed child. xxxFinally, she'd reached the familiar crumbling apartment building. The bottom windows were boarded, and covered in obscene writing, she knew the glass underneath was shattered, and the abandoned rooms had been picked clean of any valuables. She knew because she'd been the one to break into them years before. She climbed the stoop and pushed passed the heavy metal front door, that stood partly open all the time. Not much for security. She climbed the falling apart steps, being careful not to get her feet caught on any loose or broken boards. When she reached the fourth floor she could see from the end of the hall, her apartment door was slightly ajar and her heart jumped into her throat, flooding adrenaline into her bloodstream. She was at the door and in the tiny, dingy room in a second, eyes searching for her father, "DAD?!", she called out as loud as she could, already knowing he wasn't there. She slammed and locked the door behind her, rushing to her room. It looked like a tornado went through it, music sheets strewn everywhere, clothes pulled out of the tiny closet, her first guitar had been smashed to pieces, and her mattress was flipped over. Scarlett's heart sank to the floor when she noticed the empty box in the middle of the room. Her savings; They were gone, everything she had worked for, treatment for her father, a better place to live. Gone. And it wasn't a thief that took it, at least not a stranger. And that person was out snorting it right up his stupid ******** nose, and betting it on fixed fights. She had to find her dad. Throwing her guitar case onto the floor and pulling a small pistol out the back of her pants, she checked how many bullets she had, and left in search of James Morasco.
After about 4 hours of running all over James' usual hang outs and turning up nothing Scarlett was headed home, sure she'd hear about him being found dead in a storm drain in a few days. She was cursing herself for leaving the money at the house, and for leaving at all when she spotted a pale figure slumped over on the concrete slab in front of her home. "oh thank god." she whispered to herself as she jogged toward's his familiar form. "hey honey...." he mumbled placing a stinking hand on her face as she leaned down to pick him up. James was only about 40, he'd been a young father, and obviously not a very good one. With all of his partying and not taking care of himself, he looked more like 50. His once thick Auburn hair was thinning and turning grey in spots, he was missing quite a few of his yellowed teeth, and his belly hung over the waist of his sweatpants that smelled simultaneously of urine and vomit. "Hey daddy... looks like you had a bad night... lets get you upstairs and cleaned up." she sighed and took shallow breaths as she drapped his hair arm over her shoulder and helped him to his feet. It was a long treturous trip to the tub, but she made it, only dropping her dad once when she tripped over one of her many empty beer bottles littering the living room floor. She made a mental note to clean up while her father was resting and helped him bathe. Some people may have found it disturbing that she was bathing her own father, but she'd had to take over the job when her mother couldn't take it anymore. Many people had asked her why she put up with his behavior, why she babied him when he seemed to not care at all he was ruining his daughter's life. Wrapping a towel around her father's dripping body and leading him to his grungy mattress to sleep off his high, she thought back to the few times he had been a father, and shown her he did care. The most memorable was when she was 15, and had gotten mixed with the wrong crowd. She'd come home drunk and high, and he was in one of his very rare, lucid moments. He'd taken one look at her and burst into tears, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her into his chest, sobbing into her hair. He'd made her promise to never touch it again, to not become him. The shock of the moment stayed with her to this day. And to this day she had never gotten high again, excluding the occasional herbal stress relief. Which she felt was justified, considering it grew out of the dirt. As she tried to remember the exact feeling of her face pressed into his chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around her in the only loving embrace she could recall, a tapping at the door disturbed her from her thoughts.
"Who the hell is that?" she grumbled heading into the hallway. Before she could even enter the living room, there was a loud crash and a booming voice called out "Knock Knock. Oh Mister James. Our boss has a bone to pick with you." Bursting into the room Scarlett screamed in a very high octave, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO TO MY DOOR YOU NEANDERTHAL?!"
There's the quick way to do things and then there's the long difficult ways...not sure which I did here-I feel so tired I think I'm drunk without drinking.
Six months. Six months since Nicodemus had moved away from home, took the cities underground by storm and crowned himself the unofficial shut call for whole of the cartel products flooding the streets. Hard work, no one would say different. It had taken quite a few days of talking and manipulating multiple systems-he even had to dirty his own hands a time or two- but it came natural to him. The powerful flocked to him like a fly on light bulbs, the same analogy going for the weak that fled from his path like roaches in his light. To think, he was only 26 but devil enough to conquer with words rather than weapons. One could only imagine where he'd be on the turning of his century marker. Maybe oil or owning the companies that owned companies that were in oil-whatever the next step was from this. He already had a finger in every dealer and suppliers pies, funded seven pimp stables in this city, twenty more in various other cities thanks to a social get together where he could meet and greet his way to power through investment. How many night clubs was he responsible for now? He couldn't even recall as he wasn't one to micromanage his operations. That's what goons were for-send the help to keep the help in line. If nothing else someone could call him a hero for creating more jobs that way even if none of them contributed to the country due to lack of taxes. Avoiding that wasn't as much fun as Nicci had initially considered, in the beginning he still had the "IRS is my b***h, I ream it when I want to" mentality that his previous living condition had provided but that slipped away quick enough when the budget reminded him that he didn't have his father's kind of wealth. Apparently his equipment wasn't big enough to make the IRS bend over for him...yet. He was working up to it.
He had covered a decent distance in six months and yet none of this was among his musings as he re-scanned some paperwork information he needed for a morning meeting on the drive back to his loft just off the court house square in the judicial district of the city-of course he was on his way back from a meeting that had involved crooked lawyers about paid witnesses to things that hadn't happened whom he hadn't personally met. He needed a nights worth of sleep-he could feel the cold cloak of melotonin on his shoulders crying for a warm bath he could snooze in- but alas, he would realistically only get three hours or so to himself before he had to be back on the grind stone to solidifying his hold in the city as well as his advancement to the outer reaches. So numb were his extremities from exhaustion that he hardly felt it when his cell vibrated under him from his rear pocket. It had been the music that alerted him, at first thinking it was just the radio-readying a sharp smack to the head of his driver as he'd asked for silence-thought he calmed when it got louder as he lifted off the seat. "At this hour the world had better be coming to an end," he stated his lack of enthusiasm in place of the typical greeting, still managing to sound crisp and on point in spite of needing to drop where he sat.
Of course, that did seem to be his luck of late. A delegate from the Colombian suppliers had dropped in unexpectedly at one of the numerous clubs he had littering the scenery. Instead of home where relaxation waited, he was now off to yet another meeting. Oh joy.
Meanwhile, a loyal patron had purchased a party he cash couldn't cover. James Moresco was in trouble again and because Nicci had set a different man to manage the area for him, it was that man's call to deal with the crusted sack of s**t. The east side manager-Jon if memory served- had a reputation for a more brutal style of business than Nicci's sophisticated networking. Jon had sent a team of enforcers to bring him in, if he happened to die in the process well then that just couldn't be helped.
The team consisted of 9 armed grunts, the fattest one had been the ring leader to knock the door to the Moresco hovel down. The tallest had shouted their greeting-baiting James out of his rat hole. However it was the most muscular one that pointed at Scarlet when she screamed at them, "Silence her. No witnesses."
Scarlett had 6 semi automatic handguns trained on her as the fattest and tallest plucked around the garbage looking for him. If Scarlett had something to say she was saying it to the skinhead with too much muscle to wipe himself. She wouldn't get the chance though. The tall one had found the rat in question, "Got a bead on him! Guh...guh-he's too ******** heavy to lift sir!"
"Jon doesn't care, just shoot him if you can't drag him," the skinhead yelled back. All of them ignored Scarlett's protests to the idea, three of them having to pin her to the wall off her feet to minimize her threat in the room. "Keep on missy and you'll be going too." "Huston, we have a problem," the one in the bathroom shouted back after having unsuccessfully fired three shots. "Damn gun's jammed again."
"SO USE ANOTHER ONE DUMBASS," one of the six gunsmen laughed at him and his troubles. A different one though looked somewhat familiar to Scarlett...Tim from down the street! He knew her and she knew him, they had gone to school together or rather ditched together. He nudged the skin head to get his attention before whispering some advise-informing that Scarlett was the actual brain in the house. If they were could to resolve the money issue without blood shed, they'd have to skip over James and go to her. Jon wouldn't be happy about it but at least no one had to die just yet. "Sack them both up," the skin head ordered the team. Looking directly at Scarlett, he rested the barrel end of his own gun on the bridge of her nose- dangerous only if she could get her arms from the vice grip of the three grunts holding her up. "That is unless you would prefer we waste you both right here right now. After all we are a considerate organization."
Scarlett burst into the living room screaming insults, to be met by 9 fairly large men with guns pointed at her face. She realized rather quickly that retrieving her own gun from her pants probably wouldn't be the smartest option, and held up her hands in mock surrender. 'No witnesses.' peaked her attention as she attempted to assess the situation. "Oh s**t." her mind blanked as she realized that for the first time her father could very well have sealed her death. James was in his bedroom in the back, and she prayed the noise had drug him out of his comatose state and he'd made a run for it out the crumbling fire escape. A grotesquely muscular man stepped forward, his head shaved to the flesh, tattoos covering most of his visible skin, yet left his face untouched, and ordered a tall, skinny man and a fatter shorter man to start looking. They began by poking around the living room, kicking aside glass beer bottles and boxes Scarlett had been using as makeshift tables. She debated about how realistic it would be to break one of those bottles and put the two morons out of their misery, without being filled with bullet holes. Not very likely....
"Will you STOP destroying what little i do have, you MICROPHALLUS ASSHOLES?! He's not going to be under a box!!" she started screaming, not even caring that she could very well be shot for her smart mouth. She just wanted to give her father the chance to wake up and get out. Scarlett watched in blind fury as the fat one continued to knock over their few precious belongings, not even noticing the tall man slithering by her, just out of her line of sight, & into the back towards the bedrooms. "Seriously?! Are they always this ******** stupid or is today just a special occasion?!" She threw insults like weapons, drawing attention to herself, her heart had all but stopped, in truth all she could hear was a loud ringing that didn't seem like it would stop. She'd directed her last insult at the one who seemed to be the top dog, considering he was the one barking all the orders. She glared at him, staring him straight in the eye, daring him to shoot. Before he could put a bullet in her head Scarlett's worst nightmare was realized, 'Got a bead on him! Guh...guh-he's too ******** heavy to lift sir!' a strained voice called back from her father's room and Scarlett's head shot around to stare disbelievingly down the hall, how had she missed him walk wast her? The ******** snake! 'Jon doesn't care, just shoot him if you can't drag him,' the skin head barked back, causing Scarlett to jump into action, reaching for the gun in her pocket, before she got it out the fat man grabbed her hair and slammed her face into the wall then pressed her up against it, two others joining when she began to struggle and hard as she could. For a small girl, she was pretty strong. And she refused to let then lay a hand on her father. "No-!", panic and fear were clearly written on her face ad she screamed and attempted to claw her way out of their grip.
"Keep on missy and you'll be going too." the skin head growled at her, but she barely heard him. "Huston, we have a problem," the one in the bathroom shouted back after having unsuccessfully fired three shots. "Damn gun's jammed again."
"PLEASE!! STOP!!" tears streamed down her face as she pushed at their grip to no avail, she looked frantically around the room as they laughed about the gun jamming, the only thing she was actually thankful for in this hellish situation. Her eyes landed on a man about her own age, The familier shaggy blonde hair, and uneasy green eyes, looking away from her as if ashamed. 'Tim. Oh god. TIM. They'd been friends growing up, she'd skipped school with him, shared a joint or two with him, she'd even had a crush on him once. If anyone could help her now it was him. "TIM!!" she cried, "PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!" Tears streamed down her face as he looked away from her, obviously incredibly uncomfortable. The traitor, how could she have ever locked lips with such a cowardly man? Just when she was beginning to give up hope on living through the night, he leaned over and nervously tapped the ring leader on the arm and whispered something in his ear. "Sack them both up." the man belted, and Scarlett would have kissed Tim right then and there if it wasn't for the men holding her to the spot. At least they weren't dead. Not yet anyway.
The skinhead walked up closer to her and pointed the barrel at her face saying, "That is unless you would prefer we waste you both right here right now. After all we are a considerate organization." What possessed Scarlett to say what she did next, even if she lived to be 100, she'd never know. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the emotional exhaustion, quite possibly a small bout of insanity. But the next words of of her mouth earned her a nice lump on the back of her head with the but of his gun, "Wipe your mouth. There's still some bullshit on your lips." She could feel her legs getting weaker and her vision started tunneling as she realized she was loosing consciousness. She urged herself to stay awake as she glared up at the man but didn't succeed.
Prehaps Scarlett would fade in and out of consciousness, her head throbbing from where she'd been struck. Her father had been poured back into those nasty sweat pants for the sake of the men's eyes. Two were in this car, the others had loaded up in two more cars flanking the one they were riding in. If she had snuck a peek out the tinted windows, she would find more of the same in this part of the business district at night. Whores hooking up with Johns, shady deals made in the open, and not a cop in sight-Scarlett would know where she was in the city but these clubs were out of her pocket's range. Lost time flickered back and forth like flame on a candle's wick in the wind, showing Scarlett bits and pieces of their travel's while the head pain set in telling her she was still alive and better yet healing. The club she and her father were being dragged into was huge and gorgeous. The owner had obviously dropped a penny worth two of her if not more from the looks of the self sustaining aquarium ceiling over the dance floor in the main room. There was real art framed in real gold on the walls, some of the tiles in the floor lit up and even with her delirium she could feel the base thump from the sound system. Yet none of that mattered-she was being dragged up and around back to the VIP section where the light and quiet was a little better suited to shady deals and lustful company.
James was thrown into a upholstered booth first, Scarlett shoved on top of him. "Wait here like good dogs." The room was still spinning too much for the body to be matched to the voice. Sight had failed, the drinking from earlier had numbed her skin, her ears were betraying her and right now all she could taste was blood and bile-smells of strawberries and whiskey rich on the air.
Amidst all the chaos this boss they were scheduled to see still had to be hunted down. Jon was a heavy black man with designs cut into his hair, two small diamonds sparkling on his lower lip from a particularly well done snake bite piecing-but he dressed like an idiot that tried too hard to be noticed. Gold trimmed white track suits didn't look right on anyone and for him it was just shameful because he had the potential to be handsome but had chosen to squander the gift. "Who 'dis be," From the overly urban speech patterns to the gold platting on his front four teeth, Jon managed to make himself the unspoken joke of the night.
"James Moresco, sir, and his daughter. He's not able to speak for himself right now, she's the one we talk to right now" The skinhead stepped in to bring a somewhat tangible degree of sanity to the organization of the operation.
"A'ight, a'ight, check 'dis," He slipped into the booth side across from Scarlett not even bothering with James. At least he had brains enough to know that kind of lost cause when he saw one, "It's straight business here, yo. Y'all are shortin' the bill 'bouts six hundred K hard cash money. We need 'dat tonight or 'dere go'nna be blood on the streets. Him, easy bullet rattling teeth. Smoking shorty like you..." He took the moment to admire Scarlett's assets, running his tongue over the gold teeth. "...we'll take our time wi'd. So, ya'll got a little some'some or am I putting 'dat a** on the corner when I'm done wi'd it?"
Meanwhile, Nicci could only take so much more before his endurance for patience would be running on fumes-already scrapping the bottom of the barrel and pulling up dry. The Colombian delegate was pleasant enough company-particularly since the meeting ensured an end to further disputes regarding difficulties with the boarder-but it wasn't so pleasant that he'd keep himself awake for another 15 minutes much less an hour. It had gotten to the point that he was considering just sleeping in the car but the universe had dropped him some fortune. The delegate had taken a keen interest in the strippers, Nicci gauged from his body language that the delegate was just as eager to call the meeting to an end as he was and took the opportunity to excuse himself on hospitality.
Temporarily away from the strobbing black lights and out in something brighter, Nicci took a moment to breath deep and relax his shoulders before dawning a pair of sun glasses to hide the visible effects of the exhaustion. Blood shot whites in his eyes had been off set by puffy dark bags and the left eye refused to open as much as the right-the debate of which was worse, the sight or the feeling, would be left to scholars for years to come. Whatever, who'd be looking at his eyes when they were hidden away behind dark glass with jewels in the outer corners of the lenses?
He was picking his way pasted the booths of the VIP area, ignoring most everyone as if he were wearing blinders like a lead horse. So tired and focused on just maintaining poise enough to get out of this neon den of decedance, the infuriated yelling of a buffoon that had been "disrespected" had also gone unmarked. What business was it of his-he hadn't been there, he wasn't a part of it. Yet, the night wasn't done with him yet. Said buffoon thrashed backwords and sent a tray of drinks flying...directly drenching Nicci from neck to knees!
Jon hadn't liked what Scarlett had to say one bit, it didn't even take much to get him animated and jumping like a cat with tape on his paws. Jon had maybe met Nicci a handful of times and wouldn't have recognized him in clarity much less a rage while his boss was wear dark glasses. The goons on the other hand, were hungry to be the first draft pick for Jon's job and had Nicci's face fresh on the mind everyday just in case the opportunity to prove their worth were to spring up. They all paled, growing wide eyed, and silently prayed for courage when Jon lost his mind, "DUMBASS CRACKER b***h BEST BE WATCHIN' WHERE I'M STEPPIN BEFORE HIS LILLY a** GOT SMACKED UP!"
Prehaps if he'd been better rested, the circumstances just a little different, Nicci could have let it go as just the simple minded ravings of a moron. Not tonight, not when his patience was spent, he was wet, and this guy was such an eye sore of fashion crimes. Nicci pointed at one of the goons keeping Scarlett in her seat and snapped his fingers. No more effort was needed on his part to see that the goon pulled his gun and shot Jon in the back of skull. "...Don't let him stain the carpet," Nicci grumbled, stepping over the lifeless slumped form that used to be the head manager for the whole of East side.
Several goons jumped from their task of guarding the Moresco's to collect the body before damage could be done and just when it seemed like luck was finally on their side, the skinhead had to open his mouth. "Mr.Celestine, Jon was dealing with a debt case, who should take over until a replacement can be found?"
Nicci's head lolled on his neck at the sensible question. Most of him wanted to call it quits, let the ants figure it out for themselves but good business sense won out in the end. It was his temper that got this mess started now he had to deal with the consequences personally. He returned to the booth and sat down across from Scarlett as Jon, but this time he propped his jaw in his hands and just stared at her from behind the glasses. Not a word. Skin head started to fidgit, not understanding what was happening here. "Um-this is Scar-"
"I'd prefer to hear it from her, thank you," Nicci spoke over him boredly, but skin head had acted like he had snapped at him. Two more words and Nicci might have taken his head off or had him shot too. There was no telling what was going to happen in the next few minutes. He didn't even say "yes sir", just folded his hands in front of him and quieted down. "...Lets start simple, what's the problem, why should I care, and how do you plan to fix it?"
He was putting her on the spot and rather unfairly. He held all the cards in the deck and she didn't even know what game they were playing. What if her next words got her and her father shot that quickly? It was almost too much pressure for any normal person to take.
Scarlett's colorful vocabulary had gotten her into trouble again. She was lucky they didn't shoot her and call it a night, though it would have been preferable to the nauseating pounding in her head. Her vision was coming and going, which would have been fine, if when she could see it wasn't blurred almost beyond recognition. She slumped to the floor, trying to hold down the bile rising in her throat. The possibility of having a concussion occurred to her as one of the men hoisted her to her feet, gripping her arm rather hard. The sharp pain surprised her and she yelped, slapping at the hand in vain.
"Calm down..." a familiar voice whispered, It had been Tim who hoisted her up, she calmed a little, knowing that at least he wouldn't just kill her. Not unless ordered to, anyway. The world spun as she tried to find her footing and she leaned on him for support, hating herself for the weakness in her legs. She looked over as two men carried out her father, one on either side, his arms draped over them like overcooked spaghetti noodles. His eyes were opened slightly, but she could tell they were glazed over and she would be lucky if he even knew where he was. They moved ahead of her, grunting and cursing their way down the stairs and out to a black sedan. Tim half carried her down the stairs, and she was thankful that at least it was him, and she wasn't depending on that god-damned skinhead. As they got closer to the cars, Tim's demeanor changed, and he got more rough with her, throwing her, none too graciously into the vehicle with her father. Probably for appearances, but it still pissed her off. "a*****e...", she grumbled as she attempted to sit up straight, only to lean back against the seat in pain. "Ow.." she whimpered reaching up to the back of her head and testing the area with the pads of her fingers. A hard lump was forming and it was tender to the touch. Two men got into the car and slammed the doors, then started driving, taking off rather quickly, and throwing both Scarlett and her father forward. "WATCH IT!", she barked at the men, but they ignored her cry of protest, as they sped down the street, taking turns faster than most street racers. At least it seemed that way, it could have just been the concussion. She quickly pushed her father back into the seat and buckled him in. "Are... we goin' for a ride shweetie?", her dad slurred at her. "Yeah dad....", Scarlett leaned away from him, not wanting to yell, because she knew it wouldn't do any good, but still too angry to deal with him at the moment. She laid her head back against the leather and watched the scenery blur past, wondering if this was the last time she'd see any of it again.
Next thing Scarlett knew someone was shaking ******** man. She's not waking up. I think you killed her." a slightly panicked voice broke the haze that was settling over her body and she groggily slapped the hands away, "I'm not dead you moron." lifting her head off the seat felt like trying to lift up a block of cement, but she managed to get herself out of the car. As they began dragging her passed-out-again father out of the car she took in her surroundings, looking back every few seconds to make sure they hadn't dropped him. She recognized the area, she'd played at a club down the street once, but she'd never actually been there for recreational purposes, it was way too far out of her price range, just being there made her feel self conscious about her holey jeans and dirty sneakers. Tim grabbed her arm once more, this time a little more gently, but she shook him off anyway. "I can walk." she snapped giving him the meanest look she could muster with her head still swimming. "Just shut up and let me help you." he growled grabbing her arm again and dragging her into the building, following the two men dragging her limp father. If she hadn't been forced there against her will, she would have thought the club was actually pretty nice, and maybe even admired the art lining the walls. but as it was, she barely noticed the not so muted extravagance of the place, all she knew was that the lights blinking in the floor tiles combined with the thumping off the base in her feet were making her headache worse. The hangover starting to rear it's ugly head definitely wasn't helping either. As they lead her and her father to the VIP room the noise and lighting died down to a bearable level and she thanked her lucky stars. Then cursed them all over again when Tim threw her on top of her dad. AGAIN. "Wait here like good dogs." god she hated that ******** skin head, she briefly imagined herself choking the life out his tree trunk neck. "woof." her retort was dripping with sarcasm, and she adjusted herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the booth as her father was sprawled across the rest of it.
They sat waiting for 'the boss' as they went to track him down, leaving Tim as a sort of guard. When they returned, they were flanking a large dark skinned man with a ridiculous pattern shaved into his otherwise nappy hair, sporting an even more ridiculous track suit. "Who dis' be?" as he spoke Scarlett realized this overly flashy man must be the boss, and he must also get a fairly decent pay to afford those ugly a** teeth in his mouth.
She allowed them their little spiel and the man sat down across from her, and opened his mouth, addressing Scarlett. "A'ight, a'ight, check 'dis, "It's straight business here, yo. Y'all are shortin' the bill 'bouts six hundred K hard cash money. We need 'dat tonight or 'dere go'nna be blood on the streets. Him, easy bullet rattling teeth. Smoking shorty like you..." his grotesque tongue ran across his ridiculous teeth as he eyed her lustfully, "...we'll take our time wi'd. So, ya'll got a little some'some or am I putting 'dat a** on the corner when I'm done wi'd it?"
Scarlett sat dumbfounded, did he really just say he was going to 'take' her then turn around and sell her?! She could feel her face flushing red, and her temper beginning to boil, "LOOK HERE 'BRUH'," she placed her hands on the table and began raising her voice as she stood, she'd been through too much already tonight to be told she was going to be used as a 'play thing' for this nasty a** mother ******** and she was going to tell him so, ******** her dad, ******** her headache, "I don't know WHO you think you are, You send your ******** goons to break down my door, and then try to threaten me. I don't give a ******** what you say, but first off, if he couldn't pay for the ******** party, you shouldn't have ******** let him have it. SECOND OF ALL, ******** YOU." She stared daggers into him and let that sink in before continuing, "And even if you DID try to prostitute me, do you think anyone would actually pay for ANYONE after you touched them? I wouldn't even touch that tacky a** track suit you've got on after you wore it."
Jon jumped up as if he'd been shot and took a swing at Scarlett who had the foresight to duck. His voice rose about 3 octaves as he began screaming, "DUMBASS CRACKER b***h BEST BE WATCHIN' WHERE I'M STEPPIN BEFORE HIS LILLY a** GOT SMACKED UP!" He jumped out of the booth and hit a passing server who spilled her trey of drinks onto a passing by man, Scarlett bairly noticed as she continued her screaming match with Jon. She enjoyed seeing him riled up, and retorted, "GOD DAMN, COULD YOU TALK LIKE A NORMAL ******** PERSON?! MAYBE I'D UNDERSTAND WHAT THE ******** YOU'RE TRYING TO SAY!"
Before he could even answer there was what sounded like a care backfiring and blood sprayed all over her face. Scarlett stood in shock and touched her wet skin, pulling her hand away and seeing the red staining her fingers. She sat slowly down, eyeing the dead body, slowly coming to the realization he'd been shot in the back of the head. The bile in her throat was really fighting her now as her eyes zoomed in on the ruby liquid spilling over the floor. "...don't let him stain the carpet." A cool, deep voice interrupted her battle with her stomach and her eyes rose to the tall dark figure, who had been hit with the drinks. She stared at him wide eyed, not hearing a word he was saying as him and the skinhead exchanged what seemed like nonsense.
The world didn't even seem to come into focus until the man sat across from her and spoke again, "...Lets start simple, what's the problem, why should I care, and how do you plan to fix it?" Scarlett stared blankly at him for a few beats, not processing the words right away, but as soon as she did, she attempted to stammer an answer, "M-my name's S-Scarlett Moras-sco." tears began threatening her eyes as she realized, this man wasn't the same as the grunts that had broken down her door and drug her to this god forsaken place, he would kill her, in a heart beat, and suddenly it was too much, and she felt herself beginning to hyperventilate. She tried to explain the situation as best she could through her labored breathing, "m-my dad.." she gestured weakly at her father as the tears over flowed, "He, owes them...." she looked at the man and then changed her statement to a question, "you? M-money...?" It was too much, she was going to die, she felt the fear gripping her throat as it closed up and just sat there shaking, hoping that it would at least be quick. Tim pushed her arm, attempting to get her to continue, but she just looked up at him, panic seizing her body. She then watched in horror as the other grunts recruited his help in carrying off the body of Jon.
Nicci had honestly believed that there would be no more decently entertaining surprises for the scant remains of the evening and yet this was rather relaxing. The story of the Moresco family was written out before him on the people themselves, Scarlett's moderate telling served only to confirm. They wouldn't be here in this mess if it wasn't a whole lot of debt involving drugs-she wasn't a hundred percent but at least she was coherent enough to comprehend what's happening around her. Her arms didn't show tracks, no visible sores to indicate that she partook. The "father", as it were, was quite the opposite. The lights were out and no was was home, so many sores and colorful smells that it was difficult even for his observation skills to pick out just what his flavor of habit had been. She took care of him, loved him when the world would abandon him. No matter how far gone he was that love would sink in and he'd know if something happened to her.
The solution to all their problems was delightfully simple. First step of manipulation: Get on her side. His head lolled in his hand and a soft smile lightened the mood to allow the flowery nature of his Siren's Song to settle on he ears like a pile of silk crumbled on the floor. "Scarlett...I like that-red's my older brother's favorite color. I digress though. You knocked out two of my three questions and because I like you I'll take care of the last for you."
He laid his arm out on the table as he sat back to address the goons, "I wonder if there are any hidden gems in this bunch-Pop quiz boys! What's the best way to torture an addict?"
Goon after goon looked to the brute next to him, shrugging and scratching their heads-each too scared to speak up in case they were wrong. Nicci sighed at the murmurs about to give up on this bunch but then a small voice piped from the body that was being seen to, "Take away the sauce?" It had been Tim of all people to show he had a little brain to match his brawn.
Nicci grinned at him, "Very good, Detox is correct. You there, I don't recall your name?" He addressed the skin head-having noted that he seemed to be who the majority of these men listened to behind Jon's back anyway. That kind of power hoisted him up the ranks for First draft pick to replacing his manager for the east side. The skin head-or Eric as that was the name he'd given, didn't quite see it that way. His back had straightened like he might have clinched his butt too tight.
"Eric, please escort Mr.Morasco to the old meat packing plant off Bypass 43. Set him up on of the empty cooler rooms for the next few days. Scheduled three shifts for guard duty-I want him monitored at all times but out of reach to any food. He can have water but it would have to be through a hose. Don't give him anything you could use as a weapon. If you can figure out how to injure someone with a plastic bottle or cup, a desperate addict can figure it out too."
Nicci got up from the table, turning his attentions to Tim-one hand's set of piano player's fingers dancing on the table, the other slipping into the pocket of his pants. The drinks had soaked him through to his last layer, the thin pink material of his dress shirt becoming transparent against his white under shirt that clung to the structure underneath. "You, the smart one, you're with me from now on. Escort Ms.Scarlett down to my car...now what could I be forgetting? Ah, Eric, At the earliest sign of sobriety from Mr.Morasco please inform him that his daughter is dead and it's entirely his fault."
Tim had just gotten to her but froze at the words, afraid for her safty as much as she might have been. Nicci noticed the connection-it would be to his advantage to use that strained kind of friendship toward his agenda. "Purely for his benefit of course. Dead men can't pay debts, killing either of you would be letting you off too easily. Guilt is a strong motivator-it will either crush him or empower him to clean up his act. I will be expecting some gratitude for that considering that either way we'll be losing a valued customer."
The room was eerily silent as 'Mr. Celestine' began speaking, it was as if everyone was too afraid to utter a sound, and Scarlett didn't blame them. Something about this man put her on edge. Of course, any man who ordered death so easily would do that too her, but with him, it was something more sinister. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and held her tongue for her. Whatever it was went deeper than his posture and cold attitude towards the life of another, the feeling had settled into her bones and chilled her to the very core of her soul. As soon as his suddenly melodic voice hit her ears she felt a warmth wash over her skin, a tiny voice in the back of her head began to whisper, 'It's okay, trust me, I'm no threat to you, relax...' Even if she could have fought the feeling, she didn't want to. The night had been so terrifying, she welcomed the few seconds of peace. Scarlett's body visibly relaxed as she listened, her fists un-clenching reveling tiny red half moons in her palms where her nails had pierces her flesh. Her eye lids drooped sightly and she took a long deep breath, reveling in the musical voice that was caressing her ears. Suddenly he turned towards Tim and the other goons that were lifting the body from the floor. A tiny coil in Scarlett's gut began poking at her, telling her something wasn't right about this man, that she needed to go back to being wary at the least. She pushed the feeling back down, not wanting to listen and concentrated on the situation around her.
Tim had just spoken, and Scarlett's interest perked once more as she realized they were referring to her father. Fear gripped her once more in a full comeback as she attempted to gather where the conversation had gone. "Eric, please escort Mr.Morasco to the old meat packing plant off Bypass 43. Set him up on of the empty cooler rooms for the next few days. Scheduled three shifts for guard duty-I want him monitored at all times but out of reach to any food. He can have water but it would have to be through a hose. Don't give him anything you could use as a weapon. If you can figure out how to injure someone with a plastic bottle or cup, a desperate addict can figure it out too."
She quickly figured out that Nicci meant to detox him, in the worst possible way, but detoxing him none the less. "W-wait..." Scarlett tried to speak up, to insist she go with him, but he was already standing up from the table. The little voice in the back of her head continued to attempt to soothe her, the panic was once again pressed to the back of her mind and she relaxed back into the seat, knowing they couldn't take him until she moved. Her eyes were drawn to his fingers first, they tapped absentmindedly on the table top, they reminded her of 'artist's fingers' they were long and thin, perfect for playing instruments and painting. Her blue eyes traveled up the length of his sleeve and falling on his chest where they admired his broad chest and shoulders, had he always seemed this handsome? Red flags went off in muddled mind, she wasn't supposed to be finding him handsome, he'd had a man killed in front of her, and was about to torture her father, how could she be so calm in the situation she'd found herself in. The fight in her head between the two voices were almost unbearable and she chose to go the easiest route and trust him, the calming voice smothering the coil of doubt.
Nicci called over Tim, who he seemed to have taken a liking to, and continued his orders, "Escort Ms.Scarlett down to my car...now what could I be forgetting? Ah, Eric, At the earliest sign of sobriety from Mr.Morasco please inform him that his daughter is dead and it's entirely his fault."
Scarlett recoiled from Tim's out stretched arm at the same time the words registered with him, and he froze, his face contorting into something resembling a mixture of worry and panic. Scarlett's heart rate quickened as she imagined her father waking up in the dark room, and being told she was dead. She then mentally chastised herself for worrying about her father, when for once she should really be worried about herself. Tim wrapped his hand around her arm and began lifting her out of the booth as Mr. Celestine began speaking again, "Purely for his benefit of course. Dead men can't pay debts, killing either of you would be letting you off too easily. Guilt is a strong motivator-it will either crush him or empower him to clean up his act. I will be expecting some gratitude for that considering that either way we'll be losing a valued customer."
Tim's tense shoulders dropped slightly as he let out a slow, slightly uneven breath, Scarlett wondered what he was worried about, she's the one gambling with her life her, or if she got technical with it, her father was. "W-WAIT--" she reached over toward her father as Tim used his superior height and strength against her in her weakened state, "No! No, please, you can' tell him that!" Tim clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed to get her out of the room before she pissed of Mr. Celestine more than she most likely already had, he muttered a quick apology as he took her out of the room, that last thing she saw was her father stirring slightly a the sound of her desperate plea. "Shcarletts....?" he mumbled attempting to lift his head off the cushion, only to fall back and mutter nonsense.
Tears poured down Scarlett's face as Tim drug her out, whispering calming words in her ear. He might as well have been talking to a brick wall for as much good it did him. They exited the building and he shoved her in an expensive foreign looking car, locking the door behind her. Immediately she was at the door handle, yanking in vain. "TIM! LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! MY DAD! I CAN'T LEAVE HIM WITH THEM!! LET ME OUT NOW!!!" She screamed at him as he turned his back to her, she knew he was doing it for her own good, but she couldn't take it, and began kicking at the door, screaming like a child pitching a fit.
The driver, she hadn't noticed until then turned around in his seat a said in such a low voice Scarlett had to quiet down to hear, "I suggest you quiet down before the boss gets out here. He's already in a bad mood, and I'm sure he'd rather dump your body in a lake than deal with that nonsense." He looked at her in pity, almost as if he felt bad for her and then promptly turned back around.
Wrapping her arms around her knees, Scarlett whimpered and laid her head on them. She let the tears over flow, silent sobs rocking her body. What in god's name had she gotten into now?
Under normal circumstances, one could suppose that a smart super villain would have accompanied the hero to his demise so that he could watch or monologue him to death. Nicci's circumstances were not normal-this addict wasn't a hero, neither was his daughter, and he was way beyond too tired to talk for that long. Just dishing the orders had given his moxie a beating, the moment he was alone at the booth he sat back down and struggled to get his breathing regulated rather than just controlling it to look that way for the sake of the fools that believed he was unstoppable. Like he'd ever give up that illusion.
Outside at the car, the driver thumped his gloved fingers on the leather bound steering wheel of the Dark Blue Jaguar Nicci favored. Tim had remained outside, not daring to lean on it in the event that the studs on his rear pockets might scratch the paint. Rumors of the new boss had circulated to his part of town only last month and none of it was any kind of comforting...though, he had to admit he'd pictured someone older. Tim had just turned 23 and Nicci looked to be not that much older than him and Scarlett. Maybe 26 but not a day over 28. Whatever, his musings came to a stop when he spotted the devil in black and pink finally emerging from the club...or rather swaying out. Was he alright?
Even the driver had to squint and be sure. True he knew Nicci was tired but surely he wasn't this tired. From sight alone it could be assumed he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings but moved with to much poise to be thought of as drunk. When he stepped off the curb and onto the black topped road to sojourn over...Tim saw the car first. Just another inconspicuous green ford Taurus but it wasn't showing any kind of indication that it saw Nicci.
"BOSS," Tim screamed at him, drawing his gun out of reflex as he set his feet to spring-lord knew what he was going to do with it. Perhaps he was just used to the security of the handle when in a tight jam like so. It had been the sharp shout and sudden appearance of a someone in the headlights that caused the car to screech and swerve to a sharp stop. Nicci hardly even flinched the whole time-too tired and overly confident that the world revolved around him to give a damn about almost getting hit by a passing car. Pedestrians had the right of way-cars were supposed to stop for him. He only addressed that the car was even there and something had happened because the driver of the taurus had gotten out to scream at him. "STUPID b*****d WHAT THE ******** ARE YOU DOIN' JUST WALKIN' OUT IN FRONT OF PEOPLE LIKE THAT? YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?!"
Nicci didn't say anything, had nothing to say. He didn't know this person, didn't care to know this person, and believed he was in the right to tread where he damn well pleased. There wasn't even enough of a reason to defend the notion here-particularly if the person was too stupid to have not already known that. So instead, Nicci stared at him through the glasses. The person couldn't see his eyes but was all too acutely aware that eyes were on him like he'd just stepped on an ant hill where the ground gave way and insects exploded up to crawl all over his skin in hordes. Such was the result of Nicci's heart rate dropping like a rock in water--he was ready to collapse and because of it the natural aura of his devilish blood seeped out on a psychic level as he no longer had the strength to keep it in check. It reached the sixth sense humans had come to understand as an evolutionary upgrade to detecting predators like him and various other crazies. Just staring pure loathing at the driver of the Taurus was giving him the creeps bad enough to quiet him-soon enough to cause him back up really slow into his car and lock the door while waited for Nicci to finish crossing the street.
Tim had gotten a burst of it too, though he was too stunned with the fact that what Nicci had done actually worked to make the driver back off. He hadn't finished drawing his gun because of it. The surprise had him so dumbfounded he didn't realize Nicci was waiting by the car door for Tim to open it for him...as servants should do for their employers. He mouthed a silent apology as the sound refused to croak out of him-like it was scared of Nicci too. Once seated and the door shut again, Tim jumped out of his skin thanks to a knock at the front passenger window. It was just Nicci's driver informing him to get in too. No need to discuss their destination. Tim and Scarlett didn't need to know-Tim was a guard and his job didn't change with locations. Scarlett was technically a prisoner-she'd be along for the ride no matter what and was entitled to no choices in the matter. So it was an understanding between Nicci and the driver that they were going back to the judicial district.
Scarlett wallowed in self-pity for all off 30 seconds before drying her eyes and sitting up as straight as she could with exhaustion settling heavy on her shoulders. The events of the night combined with the drinks she'd downed, what seemed like years ago, but could only have been a couple hours past, were really taking a toll on her as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She ended up laying her head back on the cushion of the seat, her face angled towards the club entrance to keep an eye out for Mr. Celestine. The lights glared against the glass, causing her to squint. Tim Partially blocked her view, casting a shadow into the car, if she had been in a different type of situation, she would have admired how broad his shoulders had become, and how the new way he cut his mop of hair made him look older, more mature, and admittedly handsome. She hadn't changed that much since high school, she still wore her hair in the same messy bun or it hung the exact same way, around her face, framing her delicate features, and falling just past her shoulders, in stark contrast to her olive skin. She was still just as distrusting and mouthy as she had been back then as well, where as he had become more quiet, and serious. His stony, indifferent attitude towards moving a bloody body came to mind, making her shudder. The boy she had known cried when he accidentally hit a stray dog with his car on one of their many escapades. What had happened to him, to change him so much? She barely knew the man standing just on the other side of the glass. How vastly different their lives had become in such a short amount of time just went to show what just a short couple of years could do to a person. Even so, for just a brief moment she wished she could open the door and crawl into his lap; Lose herself in his arms as she had so many times before when her life seemed to be spiraling out of control, but shoved the urge to the deepest darkest part of her soul. It was out of the question now, and there was no turning back time.
Just when she thought she couldn't keep her eyes open a moment longer, she spotted a tall dark figure sway it's way out of the club, the various lights illuminating his slim, fit figure. Her heart began beating at a slightly more rapid pace, though she couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, the little voice began to rear it's annoying head as she stared, and she struggled to crush it. Tim stood straighter, his shoulders forming a hard line as he took a step away from the vehicle. She watched as the man swayed his way down towards the car, She realized it was Celestine, looking a little worse for wear. AS Tim began questioning his strange walk Celestine stepped straight into oncoming traffic, either unaware of the fact he was doing so, or not caring. Scarlett sat up straighter, a mix of panic and adrenaline rushing into her bloodstream. She mentally crossed her fingers and cursed Tim silently for yelling a warning as she spotted a car speeding towards Nicodemus. Then cursed outwardly and turned forward to kick the seat in-front of her when it missed him by inches, "Of course, that would have been too ******** easy." she mumbled to herself, ignoring the daggers being bore into her by the driver's eyes reflected in the rear-view mirror. Crossing her arms she leaned her head on the window, not wanting to see any more of the commotion outside the vehicle. She put on a mask of anger to hide the fact that she was brutally exhausted, and vulnerable, not wanting anyone to see her in such a weakened state. She'd always taken pride in seeming to be an immovable wall of protection to her father, but she was crumbling, and unable to keep out the dangers any longer. She heard the muted yelling, then the sound of a car door shutting, she briefly wondered what had happened, but didn't have the energy to turn around again.
Tim's figure disappeared from her peripheral vision and appeared on the other side of the vehicle, opening the door for Nicodemus. Of course, he was too good to open his own door, perfect. She snorted and crossed her legs, scooting as far away from him as the tiny space would allow. The sudden urge to get away, as quickly and as far as possible overwhelmed her, her hands itched to yank open the door and run screaming into the night. She ended up uncrossing her arms and sitting on her hands, she was of no use to her father dead. The driver unlocked the door for Tim to get in as well, and his presence, for once, did nothing to calm her frayed nerves. As they started driving Scarlett peeked from the corner of eyes at the man sitting silently next to her, his sunglasses hiding his expression, but his lips were set in a hard line. His porcelain skin was flawless, better than her own, and his posture was perfect compared to her own slouched position. His clothed were clean and pressed, not a spot or wrinkle in sight, she began self-consciously playing with one of the many frayed edges of the holes in her jeans, noticing the small red splatters from the blood of the annoying man she'd been at the mercy of just a few minutes ago. The image of his head being blown apart from the back made her stomach roll, "Oh, god...." she moaned grabbing her stomach, the nausea hitting her like a sack of bricks. "I'm gonna vomit." she groaned slapping a hand over her mouth, her skin turning a greenish pale. Tim turned around slightly in his seat to look at her in a mixture of concern and 'you'd better not'.
"Don't you dare puke in this car." The driver's stern voice cut through the silence, his eyes once again glaring at her in the rear-view mirror, then as she started heaving, trying desperately to hold it down, and shove the image of brain matter on the brightly colored floors of the club, they cut over to Nicodemus as if asking permission. Without really waiting for an answer since it was obvious Scarlett was going to blow chunks he swiftly pulled over and unlocked the door. She leaned out and heaved violently into the street, it smelled acrid, the smell wafting up to her nose, and causing her to vomit more. When she'd successfully emptied her gut, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and leaned back onto the seat, shutting the door. Her skin glimmered with sweat, the street lights illuminating her flushed face. "Sorry." she mumbled at no one in particular and sat trying to catch her breath as they continued on towards what could very well be her final resting place.
gah, here you go lovely. I don't think it's getting any better than that right now.
Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2014 7:17 pm
Herbal Refreshment
Finally! I think I was wanting to do more but I admittedly got lazy...and we needed to put some humor in it to set up for next morning. twisted Iz got plans
This was ridiculous, Nicci didn't even have the energy to articulate this concept in thought. His eyes rolled in their sockets behind tinted glass as his arm snaked around her shoulder, pulling her over in time with the opening of his door. She had to stand on hands and knees in the seat, bent over his lap in order to wretch on the side walk rather than the floor board. It amazed even him that he'd been so gentle with her. Only the touch of a pull and the opening of a door got her moving, nothing was needed beyond that but in retrospect of the moment-he could have taken her by the root of her hair and shoved her head out the window or worse. Something here had caused him to be nice when he didn't have be...what was it? Staring at her neck he followed the lines of her body up her back and over the curvature of her lofted rump doubling back to survey everything a second and third time while the opportunity had him.
She wasn't particularly his type-lacking in the usual upscale class he had so much fun stripping away to humiliation. The higher the status the more gratifying the fall to depravity, but Scarlett was already quit low on the food chain. Attraction for personal reasons didn't seem to cover the bill of his kindness-as shapely as she was-so it had to be something else. A tickle in the back of his mind-an unformed thought-was making itself known and would be complete with more digging if he could think fast enough. She had to be some sort of useful...whatever, the thought would come to him on it's own. For now he'd trust himself and go with the instinct there was something to be gained from kid gloves. Once she'd pulled back to sit down again-paler and breathing heavily, he'd pulled the door shut and taped the back of the driver's seat to signal him to get a move on. This waiting was grating on his already heavily taxed patience.
Although she had apologized, the side glance he directed her way remained hidden behind dark glasses and an indifferent expression. What was she to be sorry for-he could think of several reasons but which ones was she referring towards? "Whatever," he grumbled quietly shifting so he could prop his head in his hand. He'd leave the detail alone for now and make a note to pay attention later, the answers to his questions were either relevant and would come to him when they arrived or they weren't and his time wouldn't be wasted contemplating them.
~*~ The Judicial district was only a handful of blocks away, maybe an hour by bike 20 minutes worth a drive and with such a relatively short distance one would think that it wasn't uncalled for to have a little music for the trip. Tom was wrong. When he reached for the radio knobs the driver popped his hands and gave him a distressed glance to communicate in silence that if there was music in the car they would both get shot. A nervous glance to the back seat, taking in an unmoved lump he called "boss", would clue Scarlett in on the same secret. Silence was golden and bullets were a dime-a-dozen.
No noise was dared while the car pulled into a parking building. The driver knew he was getting close to the end of the ride and yet Nicci still hadn't moved from the propped position he'd put himself in after Scarlett settled back in the car. Shifting in his seat and repeatedly glancing up into the rear view mirror, he finally decided to brave breaking the sacred silence, "Celestine?"
No response. "Nicodemus," He tested the water by raising his voice just a bit. There was no way he wasn't heard-it was so quiet a mouse would blush at the attention his squeaking got him. Heartbeats later, they finally got a response out of him even if it wasn't quiet the one they wanted. A slight snore.
"Sonofa...Seatbelts," The driver sighed shaking his head and brought the car to a full stop to wait for everyone-minus Nicci- to buckle up including himself. Everyone strapped in, the drive shifted feet from the brakes, the gears, and laid on the gas picking up from 0 to 40! Just as sudden as he had gotten the car going, the driver stomped the brake! While the three of them jerked in the safety restraints, gravity and momentum took hold on Nicci and sent him face first into the seat in front of him for a rather rude awakening from a hard earned snooze.
The bounce had turned the lights on but from the look in those tired, red, dried out eyes peering annoyance over the now lopsided sunglasses-hanging on one earpiece-no one was home yet. "Wha'd we hit," he asked setting himself right in the seat and trying to observe more information about what just happened even though he couldn't quite see. The fact that he was even able to get that much of a theory that quick spoke volumes.
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