"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.
Post by WILLOW-ROWAN HARTHE on Aug 31, 2022 16:45:56 GMT
kota ; wr harthe
open thread
362 words
we are the fortunate ones,
who've never faced oppression's gun,
imitations of rebellion.
The Projects held a special place in a far corner deep within WR's heart, if for nothing more than the tangled memories of bouncing from foster home to foster home without much of a care in the world. As a child, it never bothered them that the orphanage, or said foster homes for that matter, were located in such a beaten, broken, & dangerous part of the city; hell, they didn't even notice. But now they wondered how they ever avoided the violence, let alone that the system was even remotely operational amidst such chaos. Granted, crimes rates were still relatively low at the time, but unlike those, the Projects seemed to resist change; it was like a little world of its own, existing independently from time & transformation.
They shrugged away the thoughts of their early childhood, slipping their hands deep into the bottom of their leather jacket's pockets, which seemed much too big for them, It was bulky & tattered brown, the sleeves running down to their fingers & the waist down to their upper thighs. It looked as if they were making a(n) (rather obvious) attempt to shoplift, which was ironic considering their battles against kleptomania. Their shirt, of course, was buried underneath the jacket along with their accessories, & their shorts only barely peeked out from under it. Strangely enough, what seemed to isolate them from other people was their white sneakers, which almost seemed to glow in the dull rays cast from the street lights above.
As the setting sun loomed over the city, they continued venturing aimlessly down the crime-ridden streets. They plucked their phone from the abyss of their pockets & began tapping away; checking on this; looking at that; scoffing at something or another. It was a common subconscious boredom for them to idly check their phone, especially while walking around the city. They seemed almost completely disinterested in the world around them, despite the fact that there was so much excitement to behold within all the little holes & crevices of Keibetsu.
Once more, they turned a random corner down the sidewalk, a sigh escaping them.
[attr="class","text-area"] He'd been walking for about half an hour now. He knew, because he had been stubbornly counting the seconds from the moment the little door-bell rang as he exited the convenience store at the edge of Uptown. It was an oddly long trip, made even longer when you took into account the alarming change in scenery the further in you walked into the projects, even for him, a resident of the slums. With a flip of his tongue, he shifted the lemon-flavored lollipop to the other side of his mouth, as he looked up at the afternoon sky. "Ah... I'm late..." The seconds ticking in his head slowly faded, as the the neighborhood around him stirred from its daytime sleep, and all sort of noises started to fill in the quiet of the afternoon.[break][break]
He had promised the girls to make them dinner today, and had spent an unholy amount of his money on fresh vegetables. He had even bought beef in secret, and this time enough for everyone to eat two dishes. Now his expensive ingredients sat neatly in their two massive paper bags, each one on either side of him, huddled in a soft embrace. It was time to sulk. They wouldn't mind eating later, of course. They wouldn't even mention him being late. But the guilt had crept into his mind already, and his lollipop had started going too sour, even for him.[break][break]
Stopping his lazy stride, he looked around briefly for a place to leave the bags and free his hand so he could be rid of it. And as if on que, he seemed to manifest what could, in his eyes, amount to a temporary shelf. "Oi," he tilted his head up and to the side, looking down at someone he should definitely not be looking down at. "Help this old man out, will ya?" Without a second thought, Vin, the retired Mad Dog of the Yankan, shoved an almost soggy bag of vegetables onto his old bosses' kid. He was running late after all. To hell with formalities.
They had finally managed to "immerse" themself in their phone, staring intently at whatever was on screen as they aimlessly wandered about the city. It was less that they were interested in the great wide web & more that they were completely disinterested in whatever was happening in the outside world, considering if you asked what they were looking at, they probably couldn't tell you.
Definitely not.
They were completely & totally spaced out, which was certainly NOT what one should do when traversing the crime-ridden streets of Keibetsu, regardless of stature. Even though WR's occupation wasn't widely known to those outside of their affiliates, they felt ten feet tall & bulletproof everywhere they went, thus they were afraid of nothing & assumed that no one would interrupt their aggressive boredom session.
So that's why when their phone suddenly hit the ground & was replaced with a sopping wet bag, their eyes widened in a mixture of shock & disbelief & they thoughtlessly dropped the bag on top of their phone as they shifted their intense gaze to whoever was responsible, balling their fists in a fit of fury.
"Pardon the fuck!?" they hissed, their fiery gaze dancing all around the immediately familiar face they had subconsciously damned to the back of their mind many years ago. "Fucking Lao," they added, a low growl rumbling in the back of their throat. "So this is where you've been hiding, you coward," they scowled, taking a short step back to get a good look of their father's favorite hand.
Part of seeing him was painful because, well, that much was true. Vin Lao was a name they heard often from their father's mouth (Vincer, he would sometimes say), because he was good at following orders, & he was proficient, which held him in a good light in their mother's eye as well. Part of it was painful because after the incident, he was one of many who disappeared into the shadows, either assumed dead or marked as traitors. Of all the people who scattered, he was one they expected to stay.
[attr="class","text-area"] The paper bag dropping to the ground didn't even make him flinch. The voice did, though. "Ayo, that mouth of yours," he muttered under his breath as he popped the half-eaten lollipop out of his mouth and tossed it to the side of the road with a flick of his fingers. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he bent down and picked up the bag with his free hand. His eyes travelled down to the person standing in front of him again, as he straightened back up to his full height.[break][break]
The first thing he thought, was that they hadn't grown much. It had been more than eight years now since he had last seen the little flame of the Yankan's bosses, and still they managed to unlock a part of his insides he had put out of sight. The more he looked, the more his body tensed, his arm ready to discard the bag and throw a punch instead. Not at them specifically, although their words weren't helping.[break][break]
"Brat, you shouldn't speak to your elders that way, you'll get beat up if you're not careful." He spoke casually, not meaning any of it as a threat, although the unexpected edge that had resurfaced in him might have strayed the tone of his voice. He tried to compose himself, as he walked passed them, and slowly continued his way back home. The past was the past. He didn't need any more reminders of it than were necessary. To be more frank, he didn't want them at all. And yet.[break][break]
He stopped briefly, after only a few feet. "You didn't eat today, did you? Bet you're all skin and bones under that bodybag you're wearing." Something in the bag he had dropped had started dripping through and into his palm. Shit.
Their expression was intensely harsh, their eyes practically burning through his skull as they suppressed every carnal urge to attack him, knowing how inane that would have been. Somehow, him motioning to pick up the bag had broken a bit of the tension, at least on their behalf, though their stare was unwavering. Once their eyes met, that scowl of theirs would shift to something a bit more menacing, a bit more threatening, a bit more sinister, which was certainly unnerving for someone of their size who could easily be confused for a lost child.
This man, once upon a time, could have easily been their uncle. Hell, they even considered him as such with how much time he spent with their father. Their involvement with their parents' work was sparse in the beginning, but even then they knew what everything meant & what purpose everyone served or was to serve. They were to eventually lead the Yankan & Vin was to help guide them. Of course, when you fail to expect the unexpected, things change in ways you may not be prepared for. WR, in fact, did take the reigns of the Yankan, only they had nobody to guide them, not even their sister. This was another one of those moments. Every muscle was tense & every bone was stiff. The only thing they could do was stare & remember what once was or could have been.
They rolled their eyes as far to the back of their head as they could at his comment, giving a scoff & a light shake of their head. "Tch. Guess you'd know better than anyone, huh?" they growled, shoving their hands back into their jacket to further deter them from throwing a punch. They had opened their mouth to make a snide comment about him dying alongside their father, but they bit their tongue. Hard. They knew it wasn't the time or the place, especially with the complicated history they had. As bitter as they were about the whole thing, it technically wasn't their business, at least not at the time. He had no way of knowing that they had taken after their parents, right? It wouldn't have been a farfetched assumption regardless, but...
They opted to pick their phone off the ground, wipe off the screen, & slide it into the safety of their pocket. It was a convenient excuse to help calm them down, which they wished they had more of.
It took Vin mentioning food to realize that they had not, in fact, eaten yet today. It was in that moment that their stomach reminded them of this, & they were once again met with a new complication. To eat with a traitor of their gang, or to not. The answer was simple, really.
"I'm not one to turn down free stuff," they murmured softly, almost to themself. "Let's just go," they added, ensuring that they had the final say on the matter. Their body was practically jello, but they managed to force themself to ease into a comfortable, slow stride. Everything they had once forgotten had suddenly came flooding back & they found themself completely overwhelmed.
[attr="class","text-area"] The bag continued dripping, a drop every few seconds, a steady beat, as the two fell into step with each other. They walked close to each other, their elbows almost touching from time to time, but Vin felt like they were on opposite roads. The initial surge of intensity he'd felt when he first saw WR had slowly subsided, retracting itself in a deeper part of him, and a weary silence took its place. It was an instinctive process really. He had forced himself to forget so many times in the past, and now his body did it on each own. This time, though, it felt wrong.[break][break]
He looked at the person next to him with the corner of his eye, up and down, and then up again, noting the harsh lines contorting their face. They really hadn't change much. There was something different in the eyes, but it was not alien. He knew what it was, he'd seen it in the mirror many times when he was younger. And it would have persisted, if it hadn't been for the girls he was carrying these now deteriorating ingredients in his arms. A sense of guilt came over him, and he was at a loss with what to do with it. He had always felt guilt for the things he did, but it was rarely ever for things he didn't do.[break][break]
"How's your mother been?" He didn't look at her, and instead spoke into the air in front of them. No matter the mess inside, his instinct told him to keep it in there, so he did. They could both deal with one mess at a time, and his did not feel like a priority.
As awkward as the silence that filled the air between them was, it was a much needed barrier to separate their respective suppressed emotion which could certainly manifest bloody murder at any given moment...at least on WR's behalf. Fortunately, maturity brought about a bit of restraint, which had definitely saved their skin time & time again over the years. With each silent step, they focused on steadying their breathing with their gaze pinned to their feet, which was a surprisingly effective method of forcing themself into tranquility.
Once the silence was inevitably broken, however, they tensed up again, which was more from surprise of their foster mother being mentioned than temper induced fire flaring up in their veins. They knew it was going to come up; it had to. They hated thinking about it & they hated that it stung as much as it did yesterday...
...but they supposed that it, too, was inevitable.
They shoved their sweaty fists as deep as they could into their pockets & squeezed their eyes shut, scraping their teeth together as they fought away the images of Sylvye that fiercely flashed in the back of their mind.
Finally, they took a deep breath & opened their eyes, staring aimlessly ahead.
"She's fine," they said, almost idly. Truthfully, they hadn't seen her in years. They never visited her after the incident, so they really didn't even know if she was still alive or not. In their mind, it was better that way. In their mind, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.
"I don't want your pity," they added, forcing a glance in his direction. They knew he still saw them as a kid, which was probably why he was so quick to invite them for a hot meal. They clamped their teeth together again.
It was probably best to not think about it. The fact that they had managed this much restraint was nothing short of a miracle.
[attr="class","text-area"] With an inaudible "hop", he readjusted the two paper bags in his arms. Mom was fine, and they didn't want his pity. Right. If he had been any less pessimistic, he'd even believe they were living a nice little quiet life away from the gangs. But he was very pessimistic, and he also wasn't stupid. Their demeanor did not even hint at a leisurely life, and their attitude, although restrained, was still the same one that couldn't go for long without punching someone's face. He'd seen a change, but it wasn't the sort of change that made one quit.[break][break]
All this time, with all these brats coming in and out of his house, he had never inquired as to who started up the Yankan again. None of them spoke about it, and he suspected that most didn't know anything about it in the first place. Of course, a big organization would never fall completely, he'd known that even when he left, with the leaders put down and most assets ceased. But it wasn't his business, and he didn't want it to be his business either, so he'd closed his eyes and his ears, and when he opened them again, the old name rang from afar, and he kept it at a distance as much as he could. There had been plenty potentials who would take up the reins without a second thought. Maybe mom got out of prison too, he didn't keep up. His eyes darted to the side, falling on WR again.[break][break]
Surely not.[break][break]
He continued the walk in silence, not for a lack of questions. A few blocks down he turned the corner, and they finally came face-to-face with the familiar two-story building. The lights downstairs were on, the front door slightly ajar like always, red and gold and the mess of perfumes trailing out through the small opening. Vin pushed both bags under one arm, and struggled to fish out a single key from his pocket. Once he caught the edge of it and pulled it out, he tossed it to WR, a moment before the bags threatened to fall our of his grasp. He distributed the weight again between his two arms and nodded to the stairs on the side of the building. "Go ahead, I won't be long," he paused for a moment, as if debating something. And then just as quickly he gave in. "There's beer in the fridge. I'll cook upstairs. Go sit in the living room and wait." [break][break]
The sun had almost hid by now, and the street lights -the ones that had not already been smashed- started flickering on. "Don't mess with my stuff too much," he called out behind him, and pushed open the door further, disappearing inside.
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