"Drugs, weapons, gangs, violence, corrupt politicians....it's the stuff that fuels a peaceful societies nightmares. We want our children, our families, our friends and our neighbors to be safe. But, the Yankan and Inago have been coming in hot, feuding over who will win, who will gain control of our once thriving city at the expense of innocent lives. The government officials are doing everything they can to stop them, but they can't all be trusted either, can they? Life has been turned upside by the greedy and malicious hands of the gangs, officers and politicians and our once safe city, is no longer that. It is time for us to start picking sides, or hiding, because this is only the beginning the decline..."
A CRIME AND GANG ANIMANGA ROLEPLAY
So, I am happy to announce that I am now looking for staff members/fellow admins to assist with this lovely little site, if you are interested please go check out the STAFF SIGN-UP thread located in the bulliten board! Thank you and have a beautiful day!
— Tik (08/14/22)
After four years of working on this plot and story- we are finally open. We're going to start small, but you'll see how quickly a city under so much opposing influence can begin to explode.
— Tik (08/06/22)
Inconspicuous motes of rock and gas radio telescope. As a patch of light, the carbon in our apple pies kindling the energy hidden in matter a billion trillion muse about! Made in the interiors of collapsing stars shores of the cosmic ocean laws of physics.
Don't know what I want but now I know where it went wrong I am doomed, me in my room, yuh Hate this stupid song but I grew up to sing along I am you; recycled youth
[attr="class","frlastcontmid"]
His breath left him heavily, but despite the heaving from his chest, he kept focus. The adrenaline said he had to keep going even if the exhaustion was setting in. The shouting around them was just blurry white noise as clearly, people were angry that he was making them lose their bets. That is why someone in the crowd handed his opponent the weapon. Desperate measures for desperate people who grasp for threads of hope. Something that he barely grasped himself.[break][break]
Anyone with the smarts and the will to live probably would have backed out or forfeited the fight. No one would have stopped that. Hell, he would gander that the But damn, he couldn't resist the challenge. Quin would rather leave a bloodied mess but on top than squeaky clean and alive. He watched his opponent that stared at him through stringy soaked hair, equally worn and battered. It was a matter of time before one of them made one slip up.[break][break]
With how torn up he was from that makeshift battering stick, he remained still until he could figure out what the other fighter was thinking, looking for an opening. There was an uproar in the crowd once the swinging began again. The rough cuts and bruises were probably searing in pain, but it only fed the adrenaline to numb it immediately. Quin just tried his best to take his hits and step out of the way, when finally an open came with a wide one-handed swing searched for him.[break][break]
But instead, the battering stick found itself in his hands after a twist away, and he sent the end right back into the forehead of his opponent who was caught off by the motion of it all. He watched him as the guy slumped backwards, knocked out from the hit. He felt his shoulders slump as it became clear his fight was done, his attention tuning into the crowd's mixed reactions as buddies of the other guy went to check on him. The roughed-up man made his way to the edge of the ring, the adrenaline slowly ebbing down, as one his own friends tossed him a rag. [break][break]
“You good man?”[break][break]
“As good as I can be.” He spoke blankly, but his tone was sarcastic. He really didn’t feel the need to point out the various bits of metal shoved through that thing.[break][break]
He started to reach for some of his things he put on a table his friends watched over, but there was a slight stumble as he leaned forward. [break][break]
“Aye aye aye!” He heard from beside him, and his friend dipped under his arm to lower him to the ground.[break][break]
Ah… This crap again. That’s all he found himself thinking. [break][break]
“I’ll go see if there’s a fixer around here.” His friend toss his stuff to him on the ground. “Just stay there, okay?”[break][break]
“You really think I feel like moving right now?” His friend just pointed at him for a moment as if to say a fair point and he disappeared to go search for someone or something.[break][break]
Quin couldn’t personally care less at the moment, as he flicked the pack of cigarettes open and plucked one to his lips to light. What’s the worst that could happen? That he’d have some open wounds?
Slow days were a rarity in this god-forsaken town, so any time he stubbled upon one of them, he made sure to take full advantage of it. In the morning, he kicked out a patient who had deemed herself well enough to walk out of the clinic room and into the kitchen to make more of a mess of it than it already was, and, after making sure the rest of the morning would be free, he rushed through thorough cleaning of the whole house. After lunch he repaired the broken screen on the kitchen window, and even went out and restocked on essentials that he had never considered to be essentials until there was a lack of them. [break][break] And still, in the middle of everything, every couple of hours, he found himself standing still close to the door of his apartment, hearing ghost footsteps on the stairs and waiting for a beat-up kid to burst through his door. They didn't. When the sun was fully hidden and the moon had taking its place, he even started getting worried. Had the gang wars stopped? Had there been some catastrophic event in Keibetsu that killed everyone, and he'd missed it? Surely not. With an open can in one hand and the other helping him lean on the railing of his tiny living-room balcony, he tried to reward himself for all the hard work of the day, but he just couldn't relax. His palms were itching, and his foot wouldn't stop tapping on the floor. Maybe he could do one more sweep of the clinic room. Being cleaner than clean never hurt. He discarded the thought immediately at the sight of a distressed man on the road below him. He didn't even bother to wait and see if the girls downstairs would point upwards, as he walked back inside his apartment, leaving his cold beer on the coffee table. [break][break] By the time the visitor had reached his door, Vin was ready to depart. With tools in hand, he followed his guide down the road and into a stingy but familiar bar, filled with faces he knew, and some he didn't. He generally avoided these place, lest he be addressed as someone he no longer was, and not trusting his instincts to ignore it. But he had been here before. It was close to his home, and a great source of work for a doctor of his reputation. Usually they knew to just walk up the road and not bother him to come to them, but apparently this one was a bit more gnarly than the norm. [break][break] They quickly descended down the stairs in the back of the bar. The only lightbulb hanging from the ceiling was on its last legs, flickering at least three times during their short trip. Of course, the lighting was even worse in the basement. A mass of people took up most of the space, and the air was rancid. He was guided through them to the other side of the open space, and presented with a sight he should have been immune to. A young man lay on the ground, with a body dipped in blood and sweat, a lit cigarette between his lips, and Vin felt the blood rush to his head in an instant. [break][break] He had been calm on the way here; more than calm. He had been relieved to get some actual work done, to keep the routine going, and his mind away from things outside of it. He should have expected this, but he had been distracted. Images of someone familiar to him flashed through his eyes, and he tried to push them back to where they always hid, as he crouched down and yanked the cigarette from the man's lips. "Do you have a death wish?," he spat at his patient, stubbing it out and throwing it to the side. Without notice, he grabbed the man's face with one hand and turned it both sides to start ascertaining the damage, before moving on to other parts of the body, with equal force in every touch, caring little for any extra pain he might have caused. [break][break] The multiple stab wounds and slashes were alarming to say the least. He was about to ask what madman would take on a fight that involved knives, but he bit his words back and instead turned to the one who had brought him there. "I need clean space. And quiet. A quick patch job isn't gonna be enough for this." Looking down at the aforementioned madman again, he extended a hand. "Can you stand? Or will I have to drag you back to my place?"
[attr="class","ooc-area"]he can't carry him bridal style, his back hurts from old age — QUIN RYZHKOV
Post by QUIN RYZHKOV on Sept 19, 2022 13:38:37 GMT
[nospaces]
[attr="class","frlastcont"]
[attr="class","frlastconttop"]
[attr="class","frlastcontimg"]
[attr="class","frlastcontlyric"]
Don't know what I want but now I know where it went wrong I am doomed, me in my room, yuh Hate this stupid song but I grew up to sing along I am you; recycled youth
[attr="class","frlastcontmid"]
As he sat there, slumped and relaxed, there was a surrealness that sank in. As if he wasn’t even really there though the buzz of the crowd's voice still hummed through his skull. Out-of-body experience, or whatever the hell you may call it, for Quin he seemed completely checked out while he laid there, sipping on the nicotine. He was somewhere else in his mind, nowhere near a fight ring, though in his mind’s eye, he was nowhere exactly. That was until his face was clamped, the tenderness in his face pulling him back to some guy grouchy asking if he had a death wish and barking commands. [break][break]
Quin was finally fully checked back into reality, unfortunately to him; the adrenaline biting back at him from the pain. He hissed at the pain as the doctor grabbed at him to assess the damage that was on him.[break][break]
“What’s it to you, doc…” He grumbled back, finally, in response to the man’s question about him having a death wish. It’s not like he’s exactly trying to die here. He also wasn’t exactly trying to live either, though he wouldn’t be the one to admit that some random guy that happens to know medical treatment. [break][break]
The dark eyes didn’t seem so gone anymore as he rolled them the doctor asked if he can walk or if he needed to be dragged. He’s met random people with a needle and a thread with more bedside manners than this. Granted, he didn’t want nor expect to be ‘babied’. He’s long past ever craving that. “I’ll be fine to walk.” He said with a grunt while sitting up and on a ledge to help pull himself up by. But his friend was quick to come over and act as a crutch unless he hobbled over like before, probably figuring that his friend was going to need the help somewhere he could crash completely. [break][break]
Quin let out an annoyed sigh about it, but he didn’t fight it. Honestly, he would rather get this over with now than to stay laying on the filth covered floor. He really didn’t know where he was going, so between his friend and the doctor, he followed like the lost, injured puppy he refused to acknowledge he was. Instead, he just stifled his pangs of pain to keep the doctor from saying shit like ‘I don’t want to hear about it’ and ‘you put yourself in this situation’. For once in his life, he didn't want to spend his energy on an argument.
Seeing the man get up, Vin turned to rush out and away from the crowd. He'd already picked up a few whispers and several pairs of eyes darting his way, and his hand was twitching. Staying any longer in this place, he feared there'd be more than one injured wreck to take care of. He paused to look back at the sound a stumble, but there was no fall, his patient's friend had taken care of that, so he continued his quick walk through the mass of people and up the stairs.
As if blind to the more obvious stares of the patrons in the ground floor bar, he walked with eyes locked on the door, and only stopped to check behind him once he was enveloped by the quiet chill of the night air outside. The twitching in his hand finally ceased. "Don't play tough, it strains your wounds. Lean more on him," he said calmly, and pointed at the man's friend. It was more an instinct than an observation. Seeing the image behind him, he was reminded of times and situations where his position had been different. He'd played both the patient and the friend, and in both cases, he knew the one with the cuts usually preferred to pretend they didn't possess such cuts.
The building was close, only two blocks away, and in a few minutes' time, they'd reached the mass of red and golden lights that buzzed beneath Vin's home. He directed the both of them to the side of the building, where they were faced with a steep flight of stairs. "Right," he sighed. Without another word, he placed himself on the other side of the injured man, and threaded an arm beneath his, making himself into a second crouch. There was no fuss on his part, as they climbed up the stairs. His patient was light enough for him to carry him alone, but the friend on the other side kept him from saying that out loud. It was good to have friends willing to help you. He also chose not to say that out loud.
Once at the top, he put his bag down and fished out the keys from his backpocket, opening the door and pulling the two inside. The hallways were narrow, and it took a bit of side-stepping to get the man inside the repurposed bedroom and onto the clinic bed. Without looking at the third person in the room, he started gathering his tool and spoke. "You go wait inside. Don't make too much noise. There's beer in the fridge." Just to make a point of wanting the room emptied, he ushered the other man outside and closed the door behind him. "You," he pointed to his patient, and was going to continue his sentence, but he closed his mouth instead and moved closer.
There really was a mess in front of him. Gashes and bruises, there was plenty of variety. Vin frowned, as he put on a pair of clean gloves, and started grabbing at the man's arms and face again. After getting a better overview of the damage, he took a step back, and repeated, finger raised. "You," he said slowly, a mild frown ever-present on his face. "Take that off," his finger lowered towards the man's shirt. If it could even be called that by that point.
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