Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20160207063839/@comment-5999656-20160507002750

(I'm trying a new writing style for this one. Flashbacks and anachronism yo.)

Picture this quite simply: an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the woods. It lies surrounded by tall trees, their smooth trunks straight and unbranching, extending multiple meters up before the branches burst out, dappling the forest floor with an alternating pattern of slick shadows and daring, flashing lights reflected from above.

Picture the warehouse itself. Imposing but hidden by the swathes of nature that grew up around it. Two stories tall, it was once used to store logging equipment before it was replaced by more efficient larger technology. One corner is charred black, and the skeletal supports stick out at jarring angles. Thick plastic blue tarps have been spread over the gaping holes in the side, and they rustle angrily with each billow of wind that slides past.

Look within. Metal beams crisscross the ceiling, black and cold, almost blending in with the darkness of the scorched roof. Large oval ceiling lights dangle at equal distances, but the smeared dust over their glass shows that they haven't been used in a long, long time. The floor is smooth concrete, scattered with dead leaves and the remains of pines needles that were blown in from outside. But there are indications that someone has used this old, abandoned place recently. There are blankets folded neatly in the corner, and discarded food wrappings with the tinfoil still shiny and colorful.

Platinum Roads stands by the balcony overlooking the now-empty workspace of the logging house. She's been here for some time, observing the two inhabitants and their mysterious chemical workings. She was lucky; they didn't spot her watching when they selected their fourth victim.

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1:00 a.m. on the dot. Not a Huntress this time, just another street worker from the dingy side of town.

''I came too late, seems they botched this one. Damn. But it's odd: instead of doing their usual thing with the chemicals, they tried to truss her up and take her alive. And when she struggled they strangled her. But why? It doesn't match their M.O. ''

Platinum's phone had died last night. She hadn't expected to be gone for so long. But now that she'd stumbled upon the identities of the two killers who had gripped the media's fascination recently, she couldn't let them go.

And now she couldn't call for help. She'd ridden in the back of their truck as they went into the forest, and hopped off and hid some ways away when they finally stopped at their hideout. From there she'd made her way up to the second floor, where she'd been watching ever since.

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There is a screech of metal on metal to Platinum's left, and she knows she's been found. But they don't attack. They speak, not to her but to somebody else. Her right hand slowly makes its way to her sabre, which they can't see from this angle.

"Do you see this, Lustra? There are some extremely clever people in this world, and they're the biggest threat to those like us. Some people don't know when to mind their own business."

Platinum turns to look at them, face set but heart pounding. She sees a woman with auburn hair and steely silver eyes, speaking-coaxing a small girl standing beside her. The girl looks frightened, yet her mother is only amused. Next to them is a male figure, dressed entirely in form-fitting black topped off with a green gas mask, and in one hand he holds a large cleaver and in the other, some form of spray bottle.

"And what's your name, girl?" The woman addresses her Platinum next.

Platinum says nothing, just holds that icy grey gaze with her glowing orange one. Then she leaps, and strikes.

"Road."

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(I'm also trying to test out Fen's proactive side. Character development, huh. Let's spice it up a bit.)

So Cyzarine wasn't completely unhelpful, it seemed. She was making some sort of offer.

"I don't care," Fen said, her normally mild expression replaced by one that was set and serious. So the first stage, panic, had passed. Zanipher was right: people who complained and did nothing were the worst sort.

"Whatever works for them is fine, as long as it's as soon as possible." If this took more than three - no - two hours, then she was going back to Zanipher and pushing her sister to goddamn do something. This was her best friend, for f***'s sake! The Daybreak Syndicate was large, and they had plenty of info points and connections. Even if Zanipher told her that they were waiting for the next move, Fen realized that she'd never actually pushed her sister to do something, and Zan had never told her No outright. But she was justified enough in this pursuit. So if that was the superior option, then why had she come here, then?

''Good question. ''Fen held a little back-and-forth in her mind.

''Why am I here? Why not go straight to the Dragons? The Suzhens certainly matter to them, and you are the heiress of the Suzhen Corporation.''

Alright, the more she thought about it the more she realized that she shouldn't have come to these two. A firestarter and a mentally disturbed soldier. Neither of whom possessed great reserves of that absolutely necessary life skill called self-control. So why had she come to them?

I would have liked to have a team.

That was it. She was subconsciously trying to give them one more chance, which neither of them deserved. There were better people in Beacon, teenagers with goals who wanted to make something of their lives and could respect that pursuit by others.

So Fen leaned against the doorway, resting her forehead on her arm. She was reaching out to them and they were not doing the same to her. No point wasting your emotions on somebody who can't reciprocate.

"Actually, Cyzarine, never mind. Sorry, Raizel," she said to the redhead. "I should have gotten the hint way back when we first met, that neither of you wanted anything to do with me. So forget it."

And with that she straightened up and strode back down the hallway. If something was gonna get done, she'd have to be the one doing it.