"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 QUIN RYZHKOV on Sept 19, 2022 18:10:30 GMT
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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
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He leaned into the tall toolbox’s drawer, dark eyes burrowed in it and judging the socket that he was in need of. Some idiot threw their clutch out of their car and it damaged the transmission on the way out. The messy state of the car really said it should be totaled on such an old model. But the guy insisted on repairs even though it was more than the rest of the car could ever hope to fetch on the market. Some of these classic 80’s and 90’s cars didn’t survive the demand, no matter if it was unique. Quin knew that the only hope for some of them was when import laws finally let the car’s VIN date go. But even then, you would have to absolutely stupid to buy a car that shoved its clutch out and a transmission swap. [break][break]
But Quin let it slide, on the condition the guy could pay upfront. And here he was. The one idiot in the city working on a car that should have been totaled. Probably because a part of him knew if it was his bike, he’d do anything to revive it too. He didn’t care if he could have a newer, nicer one paid out by insurance money. The bike itself was rebuilt by him, and it’s his pride for the fact it sat dead for years before he and his uncle began working on it. But right now he needs to figure out which one of these sockets is going to help him pop off what remains of the shrapnel that probably sits on top of one of the mountain touge. [break][break]
He shoved his messy bangs back as he grabbed his two best guesses and walked back to the car that sat on jacks and plopped himself down on the creeper to test if his guess was right. He was used to visitors just walking in and talking to him, to find out what was the next opening and all, though this one was an all-day job for him so he’d have to tell them to wait for one of his coworkers. Whenever they roll up, that is. He didn’t really pay attention to any of them or their schedules. It wasn’t his business, after all. [break][break]
When heard the familiar sound of the loose bits of gravel on pavement, he popped himself back out from under the car with a bolt half freed, an annoyed arch in his brow as he looked at someone he didn’t recognize. [break][break]
“What do you need? I don’t have another person here for a few more hours, so you might have to wait for your car to be seen.”
Post by QUIN RYZHKOV on Sept 19, 2022 13:38:37 GMT
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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
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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.
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
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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?
Post by QUIN RYZHKOV on Sept 12, 2022 23:38:54 GMT
RYZHKOV
QUIN
MALE
HETEROSEXUAL
TWENTY-FIVE
5'10" AND 152 lbs.
BLACK
BLACK W/ BLUE
APPEARANCE
He's known for his rough looks and no-damns-given flair. He could be noted to have a consistent unimpressed expression, his brows set low over the deep-set eyes and rarely smiles. His hair is a no-effort short unkempt mess with longer parts on the sides framing his face and going a little below his jawline and bangs laying around his eyes lazily. The fringe of his hair has some streaks that have been a few different colors in the past but have been kept to blue for a while. Some could say he looks like a modern blend of punk and greaser with his fashion sense, donning a leather jacket, plain t-shirt, distressed jeans, and combat boots as his usual attire, black the usual colors he grabs for.
Ethnicity: Mixed Style: Grunge Tattoos: There are many on him, often blackwork-esque. Some he barely even remembers getting due to impulse choices while drinking. Others were intentional and what he enjoys keeping. Sometimes it's to cover up some of the impulsive ones. He certainly isn’t a ‘blank canvas’. Piercings: A Left lobe, right helix and rook. Scars: Also many. His past life is worn very apparently on his skin, all different ages. A notable scar of his is one is below his ribs on his back going from an inch from his spine and an uneven jagged path to his side with signs of a rough stitch job since it struggled to heal.
PERSONALITY
Quin’s not particularly expressive nor is he necessarily a talker. And it helps with ‘resting grumpy face’ that seems to say ‘I’m one mild annoyance from punching someone’ to keep people away. It’s not to say he won’t talk at all, as when he’s with friends, then down to clown around with some cold ones and laugh. He’d even talk woes with those closest to him. But if you’re not in his circle, he makes it clear with a “What are you looking at?” if you stare at him too long. Every bit of him is rough edges and anger. Despite that, he’s got more depth to him that he cares to let people see in him. Like the fact he’d do anything to protect his loved ones. He’d give his shirt from his back, skip a meal to give it, and let them crash his apartment for as long as they needed. Hell, on good days, he might be a bit of a sweet talker and a flirt. But wrong him, and he’s not known for his forgiveness nor his kindness anymore. He’s been seen as a menace due to his impulsive anger. He’s not been above damaging someone’s property, like someone’s car or even house. He doesn’t listen to the rules of society and many will say he never will. Although, he’s heavily critical of himself in the wake of that pent-up anger. Hurting someone in his book that he never intended to hurt mentally kills him. He’s heavily aware he isn’t a good person. Often his critical thoughts thrash him violently into a state of being unmotivated to do really much self-care at the least to catatonic at the worst. He knows he should get help, but he trusts no one to ask for it, so he just tries to cope. Even if it means an addiction or two.
He was born to a set of parents who were barely out of highschool and barely scraping above the poverty line in Detroit, Michigan.
He was raised in a broken home where her parents were constantly arguing and slamming things, often neglecting their own son in their wake.
When he was still a child, in the midst of their fights, he asked if they couldn’t just get along then why they were staying together. This was the catalyst for the couple to go through their separation.
The split between his parents was messy, and frequently his parents stayed blaming each other for anything he either did wrong or had miss understood. Eventually, this often drove him from them and he isolated himself from them, which only worsened their blame on each other.
Often, he would sneak out of either of his parents' homes and manage his way to his uncle’s home for some peace and quiet from the abuse and manipulation, as his friends' parents’ were hardly better.
His uncle was hardly equipped to care for a child like father, but he loved Quin like his own, never minding when the kid showed up on his doorstep or bringing his friends to have a place where they could relax and enjoy things. He found it better than them being on the streets. He even helped Quin work on the bike his father abandoned in the shed so that Quin would have something to keep him out of trouble to do.
This didn’t prevent his friends from some troubles, like picking up Quin’s uncle’s smoking habit early, walking the streets, going to parties, and hanging out in abandoned buildings. They were generally viewed as one of the ‘wrong crowd’ types in their school. Yet this is what they did for fun, and nothing seemed to mess with that until their mid-teens.
Quin and his friends were minding their own business while walking the streets when another group noticed them and assumed they were another gang on their turf. This ensued with the kids running and trying to escape a fight they didn’t want. There was a mid-alley fence that most of them got over, with Quin and his closest friend the last two reaching it. His friend just told him to run as he was yanked back down to the ground while Quin had reached the top.
The group that chased them had beaten this friend of his to ‘send a message’ bad enough he was in a coma, which the police shrugged the incident as ‘gang on gang violence' and didn’t fully put importance on the investigation. The parents of the friend finally had to let their son rest after a few months of trying to bring him back and the police hardly acted interested in the case. The experience seemed to flip a switch in all the kids that left them mentally scarred, and soon, yearning for revenge.
This is the point where the group as a whole began to turn for the worse. Their marginally bad habits previously deepened, they almost entirely stopped showing up to school, some found worse addictions, and in total, their hunt for revenge cultivated themselves into a gang. Quin himself was considered their ‘muscle’. Despite always being the ‘quiet one’, out of everyone, he fought the best as he took his anger and grief out on anyone he was told and remembered was a part of the attack that day. He even did street fighting for money, both for himself and the gang.
A particular party led to a departure in the usual ‘routine’ they barely held in their grieving. One a fight broke out between someone who provoked them and Quin that turned physical. Police turned up shortly after and arrested both. Quin at this point had an established record for them on some minor things he was caught for, whereas the other person had a clean record and lied his way out of punishment, going back to an affluent family. Meanwhile, Quin had to listen as the police called his parents, informing him of his actions, and both of them abandoned him to the state’s whim. After a few nights in jail, the court saw it fit to put him in Juvenile Detention.
Quin started out heavily resistant to it all. The police kept trying to fish information out of him for the gang he was wrapped in but he saw no benefit to it since it was impeding the goal they set out. Only, after a few weeks, another one of his closer friends uncovered that their leader who was there with them during the attack had shifted focus from their goal of revenge to just having power. In the days after he got the news, Quin was nearly despondent from all the grief and rage crashed down in depression over how everything was ‘all for nothing’.
Once he came back from his despair, he took a calculated step of giving police just enough information to shorten his time spent in juvie to more community service. He was careful to not rat on his closest friend who all effectively wanted out of the gang once they saw their leader for who they really were. Quin himself just wanted to get back to having a somewhat normal life. As normal as he could have.
When his release initially happened, he didn’t bother with his parents. Something told him they would ignore him. He went straight to his uncle, who didn’t get mad about the boy calling him and asking for a place to stay. The man instead held a lot of nasty words for his own sibling and the ex that couldn’t even parent their kid and moved on to making space for the kid in his home, since he figured the couch shouldn’t be a bed anymore.
After a while though, their old gang leader started making threats about the missing group, especially towards Quin as things clearly changed outside his control. Once this started happening, it was clear to them all they would be safer just moving away.
He moved to Keibetsu for the distance, and settled into the world as a mechanic for a day job. Once he discovered there were underground fight rings in the city, he instantly fell into his old habits for making extra money.
Last Edit: Sept 13, 2022 1:27:39 GMT by QUIN RYZHKOV
credits
board/thread list//mini profile//full profile//info center- pharaoh leap//everything else- acrylic/tik//all images used belong to their originial creators
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